THE   WILD   WIDOW 


THE  WILD  WIDOW 


By 
GERTIE  DE  S.  WENTWORTH-JAMES 


NEW  YORK 
EMPIRE  BOOK  COMPANY 

Publishers 


Copyright,  i9o8,  by  Authors  and  Newspapers  Association 

Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall 

All  rights  reserved 


THE  WILD  WIDOW 


CHAPTER    I 

ONE  fresh  April  afternoon  two  women  entered  Hum- 
peldeye's  in  search  of  tea. 

One  of  them  was  clothed  in  costly  attire  and  looked 
shabby;  the  other  was  dressed  in  one-and-eleven-three 
materials  and  looked  smart — quite  smart. 

"  Th — there  doesn't  appear  to  be  a  table — let's  go 
on  to  Daridges',"  murmured  the  unsmart  woman 
vaguely  and  helplessly. 

But  her  companion  paid  no  heed  to  this  suggestion. 
She  just  stepped  forward,  trailed  her  one-and-eleven- 
three  draperies  over  the  thick  spongy  carpet  and 
looked  every  occupant  of  every  table  full  in  the  face. 

Midway  up  the  second  room  she  halted  in  front  of 
two  persons  of  the  type  inoffensive  and  sex  feminine. 

They  had  evidently  come  up  from  the  suburbs  and 
intended  to  absorb  every  possibility  which  a  two-shilling 
tea  might  hold. 

But  Katherine  Orlitson  intended  differently. 

She  glanced  deferentially  at  their  half-empty  cups, 
still  more  deferentially  at  their  warm  faces,  and  then 
turned  to  her  companion. 


2138711  * 


6  THE     WILD    WIDOW 

"  These  ladies  will  have  finished  in  a  minute,  I  can 
see,"  she  said,  "  so  let's  wait  here.  We're  not  unduly 
blocking  the  gangway — oh,  please,  please  don't  hurry — 
and  it's  always  worth  while — oh,  have  you  really  fin- 
ished? Are  you  quite  sure?  I  hope  we  didn't  hurry 
you  ? — thanks  so  much !  " 

The  flushed  ladies — who  had  been  reckoning  that, 
with  the  addition  of  hot  water,  the  small  teapot  could 
be  relied  upon  to  yield  at  least  four  more  cups  of  tea — 
murmured  that  they  had  finished  long  ago,  and  after 
casting  one  yearning  glance  at  the  remaining  cakes, 
which  might  have  been  demolished  to  the  last  crumb 
without  extra  charge,  scuttled  nervously  away. 

Mrs.  Orlitson  sat  down  sinuously  and  stuck  out  her 
definite  chin. 

"  You're  a  bewildering  person,  Katherine,  with  a  mar- 
vellous faculty  for  getting  what  you  want,"  ejaculated 
the  expensively  clothed  friend  (Lady  Chesham  by 
name — "  Mrs.  Brown,"  "  Robinson,"  or  "  Price  "  by 
nature). 

Katherine  pushed  back  her  long  veil  and  laughed 
just  as  loudly  as  it  gave  her  pleasure  to  laugh — for 
although  her  simple  brown  frock  was  of  a  cheap  variety 
she  never  lowered  her  tones  to  a  Cathedral  whisper  when 
chatting  in  public  restaurants. 

"  Getting  what  I  want ! "  she  repeated  in  a  curiously 
deep,  full  voice  which,  before  her  marriage,  had  been 
marvellously  successful  in  penetrating  to  the  very  back 
rows  of  provincial  galleries.  "  If  you  only  knew,  Eve- 
lyn, how  I've  never  got  what  I  want,  and  how  every 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  7 

minute  I'm  farther  away  from  getting  what  I  want,  and 
how  soon  I — I — oh,  yes,  tea — tea  for  two!  Cakes? — 
I  suppose  so — one  mustn't  come  here  without  eating 
cakes,  must  one? — and  dry  biscuits — very  strong  tea 
for  me,  please — and — er — what  was  I  saying?  " 

"  You  were  saying  how  you  never  got  what  you 
want."  Lady  Chesham  smiled. 

"  Neither  do  I,  except  in  small  silly  things  which  don't 
matter.  I  only  ran  up  to  town  to-day  to  see  if  I  could 
find  some  job — absolutely  a  job,  Evelyn — that  would 
get  me  out  of  my  present  slough!  But  no  one  seems 
keen  on  me  and  my  marked  abilities ! " 

"  My  dear,  I'm  very  sorry  to  hear  this.  I  didn't 
know  anything — you  see,  I've  seen  so  little  of  you  since 
your  marriage,"  replied  Lady  Chesham  limply. 

"  Of  course  you  haven't.  I  began  to  keep  out  of 
everybody's  way  directly  my  few  wedding  gowns  wore 
out  and  directly  I  found  I'd  married  unsatisfactorily ! " 

"  My  dear!  "  There  was  the  British-matron  note  in 
Evelyn  Chesham's  voice — that  note  which  is  in  itself 
a  sermon,  preaching  loyalty  to  the  man  who  is  taken 
for  better  for  worse,  muteness  concerning  his  faults, 
fearless  upholding  of  his  hidden  virtues,  and  a  good 
many  other  uncomfortable,  unpractiseable  theories. 

"  Well,  I  have  married  unsatisfactorily,  Evelyn,  so 
do  bring  those  nice  eyebrows  down  to  their  normal  level, 
and  stop  thinking  you  ought  to  feel  shocked.  Roger 
is  nice — distinctly  nice — his  anecdotes  are  most  amus- 
ing, his  theories  most  just  and  sound,  his  affection  quite 
pretty,  and  his  gentleness  delightful.  I  am  fond  of 


8  THE     WILD    WIDOW 

him — extremely  fond — but  all  the  same  he  has  made 
me  what  I  am — a  failure!  " 

"  A  failure — do  put  some  hot  water  in  the  pot,  Kath- 
erine;  the  tea  will  be  undrinkable!  How  can  you  be  a 
failure  wh — when  at  twenty-eight  you  don't  show  the 
faintest  indication  of  increasing  hips  or  expanding 
waist?  That  figure  alone  ought  to  make  you  a  happy 
woman !  A  failure ! " 

"  Yes,  Eve,  I  am  a  failure  because — I  read  this  sen- 
timent somewhere — every  woman  who  marries  unsatis- 
factorily is  a  failure.  She  may  make  a  big  niche  for 
herself  in  drama,  literature,  music ;  may  be  a  social  suc- 
cess ;  may  look  well  and  dress  well ;  but  if  the  legally- 
attached  man  doesn't  arouse  the  financial  envy  of  other 
women,  she  is  a  failure !  Roger,  who  won't  earn  money 
and  won't  shave,  couldn't  arouse  the  envy  of  other 
women!  Why,  he  is  so  indolent  and  unstrenuous  that 
he  has  even  grown  a  beard  and  whiskers ! " 

Lady  Chesham  looked  bewildered,  and  before  the  sen- 
tence was  half  completed  had  ceased  attempting  to 
follow  its  bye-wanderings.  But  the  main  facts  she  un- 
derstood. 

Katherine  Orlitson — formerly  Katherine  Benstead,  a 
parentless,  red-haired  pupil  teacher  who  had  run  away 
from  Madame  Grenean's  select  academy  in  order  to  join 
a  provincial  touring  company — was  hard  up,  dissatis- 
fied with  her  husband — and  perhaps  here  was  a  faint 
chance  she  might  want  to  borrow  money ! 

Lady  Chesham's  purse-strings  suddenly  tied  them- 
selves up  in  ten  Gordian  knots. 


THE     WILD    WIDOW  9 

"  Is  your  husband  good-looking?  I've  never  seen 
him,  you  know,"  she  remarked  by  way  of  dragging  the 
conversation  away  from  financial  quicksands. 

"  Of  course  you  haven't.  No  one's  ever  seen  Roger. 
I  didn't  have  the  opportunity  of  displaying  him  when 
his  clothes  were  new,  and  now  his  coats  have  become  re- 
duced in  number  and  his  trousers  are  fringed  at  the  hem, 
I  keep  him  out  of  sight.  Yes,  he's  not  bad  looking  in 

a  pard-like  sort  of  way.  Nice  hands,  and "  Here 

Mrs.  Orlitson  paused  to  shoot  an  innocent  glance  of 
noncomprehension  at  some  seatless  new-comer  who  was 
furtively  eyeing  the  table  that  had  been  occupied  for 
more  than  a  considerable  period.  She  then  turned  an 
insolent  thin  shoulder  in  his  direction  and  left  the  sen- 
tence unfinished. 

"  You're  not  living  in  town  now  ?  "  was  Lady  Ches- 
ham's  next  query.  She  hoped  they  weren't. 

"  Heavens !  No !  Not  in  any  town !  We're  re- 
trenching in  a  three-roomed  furnished  cottage  built  on 
a  marsh  in  the  wilds  of  a  gott-verlassen  hole  called  Seed- 
lingditch.  We  have  to  fetch  letters  from  the  Post  Of- 
fice if  we  want  to  get  them  more  than  once  a  day,  live 
on  tinned  salmon,  and  find  amusement  in  wondering 
what  a  human  being  would  be  like  if  he  or  she  ever 
chanced  to  be  dropped  down  by  a  balloon.  We  pay 
seven-and-sixpence  a  week  for  these  luxuries  and  bathe 
in  a  rain  tank  in  the  back  yard.  I  clean  the  mansion  and 
cook,  while  Roger  lies  in  bed,  reads  back  numbers,  and 
smokes.  We've  been  there  a  week,  and  haven't  yet  seen 
any  living  creature  except  an  idiot  pedlar,  ten  rats,  two 
frogs,  a  deaf  postman,  and  the  tadpoles  in  the  rain 


10  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

tank.  Select  and  not  overcrowded!  Now  shall  we 
go?" 

Lady  Chesham  assented  that  they  would  go  after  de- 
cisively producing  one  florin  to  show  that  no  other 
would  be  forthcoming  from  her  Gordian-knotted  purse. 

"  Don't  be  silly.  I'll  pay.  I  suggested  this  place, 
though  I  never  knew  twelve  months  would  have  devel- 
oped it  into  a  carpeted  ABC!  In  Paris  it  manages 
to  keep  all  right,  but — ugh!  what  can  you  expect 
when  tubes  go  direct  from  Hammersmith  to  Down 
Street?" 

And  Lady  Chesham's  demur  was  so  well  bred  as  to  be 
almost  soundless. 

If  dear — hard  up — Katherine  insisted  upon  paying, 
she  must  do  so,  that's  all ! 

"What  time  does  your  train  start?  You  are  going 
back  to-night,  aren't  you  ?  "  she  enquired  as  they  stepped 
out  into  the  London  season's  sunshine,  which  is  so  un- 
kind to  one-and-eleven-three  materials. 

"  Oh,  yes.  I'm  going  back  to  the  moated  mud  heap ! 
The  train  starts  at  six  forty-five." 

"  You've  got  over  an  hour  and  a  half  yet.  Come  back 
to  the  hotel  with  me — we've  got  a  residential  suite  at 
the  St.  Monarch's,  you  know — and  let's  go  on  talk- 
ing." Lady  Chesham  reckoned  that  with  tea  just  con- 
cluded and  the  train  starting  at  quarter  to  seven  this 
suggestion  involved  no  hospitable  liability  as  regards 
meals. 

"  I  will — gladly.  I  like  talking  to  anyone  who  isn't 
a  rat,  frog,  tadpole,  idiot  pedlar,  deaf  postman,  or  pipe- 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  11 

smoking  husband — and  to  have  a  clever,  congenial,  un- 
derstanding companion  is  a  joy!"  Katherine  knew 
quite  well  that  Evelyn  Chesham  didn't  possess  any  of 
these  three  last-named  attributes,  but  titled  friends  are 
always  likely  to  come  in  usefully — hence  the  wisdom  of 
three  lies. 

Twenty  minutes  later  they  reached  a  luxurious  hotel 
private  drawing-room,  whose  hotelishness  was  not  dis- 
turbed by  a  single  intimate  photograph,  pet  shabby 
cushion,  or  much-read  favourite  book,  and  for  some 
time  the  conversation  turned  on  the  doings  of  long-ago 
school-day  friends. 

"  And  how  is  that  rubber-faced  girl — Mary  Lau- 
rence— whose  manners  were  haughty  on  account  of  a 
prospective  fortune  to  be  secured  on  the  prospective 
death  of  an  actual  grandfather  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  saw  her  a  few  days  ago.  The  grandfather 
is  dead  and  has  left  the  fortune  to  a  hospital !  " 

"  Poor  Mary !  "  There  was  true  sympathy  in  Kath- 
erine's  thrilling  voice.  "  What  a  horrible  sell !  Hasn't 
she  got  anything  ?  " 

"The  details  of  a  roulette  system,  and  £3000  to 
work  it  with.  But  she's  opened  a  milliner's  in  Bond 
Street  with  the  £3000 " 

"And  the  roulette  system?" 

"  Oh,  she  doesn't  bother  about  that.  She  showed  it 
to  me — it  is  absurdly  simple,  and  if  one  didn't  know 
such  things  always  failed,  really  seems  the  sort  of  trick 
to  make  a  fortune.  The  grandfather  had  been  thirty 
years  inventing  it  and  testing  it,  but  died  before  lie 


12  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

found  nerve  to  work  it  with  his  own  money.  Mary, 
very  wisely,  leaves  it  alone.  She  turns  out  quite  unusual 
toques ! " 

Katherine  nodded.     She  wasn't  thinking  of  toques. 

"  It  really  seems  the  sort  of  trick  to  make  a  for- 
tune." 

A  fortune!  If  she  could  only  raise  some  money,  go 
to  Mont 

"  Evelyn,  do  show  me  the  system.  I'm  awfully  keen 
on  those — er — clever  sort  of  things !  "  she  said  lazily. 

Lady  Chesham  felt  flattered.  She  liked  showing 
things,  and  instantly  produced  a  pencil  and  several 
sheets  of  thick  notepaper.  It  was  the  hotel  notepaper 
provided  with  inclusive  charges. 

"  This  is  it,"  she  said,  quickly  marking  out  thirty-six 
squares  to  represent  a  roulette  table.  "  It  seems  ridic- 
ulously simple,  but  Mary  says  it's  a  matter  of  know- 
ing how  many  spins  to  miss,  and  how  many  to  catch — 
or  something  like  that.  The  grandfather's  theory  was 
that  thirty-six  ruled  the  whole  spirit  of  the  game,  and 
that  all  reckoning  was  to  be  done  in  halves  or  quarters 
of  that  number.  For  instance,  to  catch  or  miss  the 
right  turns,  he  said,  it  was  necessary  to — oh,  I  really 
forget,  but  Mary  left  the  written  directions  somewhere 
here.  I'll  show  them  to  you,  and  you  may  be  able  to 
understand  better  than  by  my  feeble  demonstra- 
tions." 

Here  Lady  Chesham  threw  aside  her  irregular 
squares,  and  produced  from  the  writing-table  drawer 
a  small  roll  of  papers. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  13 

"  This  is  the  full  explanation.  Mary  told  me  to 
let  anyone  see  it  who — she  wasn't  complimentary — 
might  be  fool  enough  to  try  it,  and  give  her  a  percent- 
age of  winnings." 

Katherine  took  the  papers  in  her  thin,  very  white 
hands,  and  for  ten  minutes  examined  them  in  silence. 

When  she  looked  up  a  faint  flush  was  visible,  steal- 
ing through  the  coating  of  poudre  veloutee  which 
covered  her  thin  face,  while  a  tint  of  dark  grey  gave 
temporary  depths  to  her  restless  light  eyes. 

"  May  I  take  these  away  with  me,  Evelyn  ?  "  she 
asked,  restrained  excitement  causing  a  strange  slurring 
indistinctness  of  her  words.  "  I'm  quite  honest — you 
know  that — poor  people  usually  are.  I'll  return  them 
to-morrow,  and  if  ever  I  can  raise  any  coin  to  try  the 
system,  Mary  shall  have  her  percentage.  Of  course  it 
isn't  a  certain  system — we  all  know  such  a  thing  doesn't 
exist — but  we  played  a  lot  of  roulette  at  Monte  when  we 
were  on  our  honeymoon,  and  also  bought  a  little  wheel 
for  twenty-one  shillings,  so  I  know  the  board  by  heart ; 
and  this  seems  to  me  a  skilful  and  scientific  way  of  se- 
curing the  probability  of  good  luck.  If  worked  in  big 
sums,  a  substantial  fortune  might  be  made  in  ten  spins 
and  with  ten  maximum  stakes.  M-may  I  take  the 
papers?  " 

"  Take  them  by  all  means,  but  return  them  soon," 
replied  Lady  Chesham. 

"  I  will— thank  you." 

During  the  rest  of  the  interview  Katherine  Orlitson 
had  very  little  to  say  that  was  worth  hearing,  and  at 


14.  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

six-forty-five  she  caught  the  fast  train  back  to  Seed- 
lingditch — that  "  moated  mud  heap "  where  social 
brilliance  found  no  scope,  and  where  real  retrenchment 
was  a  possible  thing. 

But  Mrs.  Orlitson  disliked  retrenchment — she  didn't 
wish  to  continue  it. 


CHAPTER    II 

"  Whirr-r-r-r,  wh-wh-whick-wh-wh-CLICK!  " 

The  big  iron  pill — the  orthodox  marble  had  been  lost, 
so  a  pill  served — fell  into  No.  16 — the  fourth  number 
of  the  milieu  douzaine — and  for  the  hundredth  time 
Katherine  Orlitson  had  proved  her  ability  to  sat- 
isfactorily miss  losing  spins  by  following  the  law-of- 
average  scheme  worked  out  by  Mary  Laurence's  dead 
grandfather. 

Not  more  than  twenty-one  hours  had  passed  since 
Katherine  kissed  Lady  Chesham's  most  convenient-  cheek 
and  left  the  St.  Monarch's  Hotel,  but  already — during 
a  great  part  of  the  night  and  most  of  the  morning — 
she  had  made  a  comfortable  competence  in  uncooked 
haricot  beans !  The  supply  of  counters  and  shells  had 
very  soon  given  out. 

There  seemed  no  doubt  that  to  anyone  with  several 
hundreds  and  a  clear  intelligence  at  his — or  her — dis- 
posal, the  strong  probability  of  making  a  fortune  of 
sorts  was  secure. 

Katherine  tilted  back  the  hard  wooden  chair  on  which 
she  was  seated  and  stretched. 

The  action  was  not  ladylike,  but  natural,  seeing  she 
had  been  bending  over  the  small  guinea  roulette  wheel 
for  a  great  many  successive  hours. 

Mrs.  Orlitson  remained  inert  for  some  moments  fol- 

15 


16  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

lowing  the  stretch,  then,  after  looking  round  the  very 
small,  very  squalid  parlour,  and  noting  that  neither  was 
the  table  cleared  nor  were  the  dinner  things  washed  up, 
resolutely  put  Midas,  Croesus,  Mr.  Rockefeller,  and  Mr. 
Carnegie  out  of  her  mind  to  obey  the  calls  of  domestic 
necessity. 

The  roulette  wheel  and  iron  pill  were  pushed  into  a 
wooden  cupboard  to  share  the  seclusion  enjoyed  by  half 
a  jar  of  marmalade,  a  paper  packet  of  cheese,  three 
empty  and  one  quarter  full  whisky  bottles,  seven  con- 
tentless  "  Goldchunk  "  tobacco  tins,  and  a  selection  of 
sample  cases  and  boxes  and  tubes. 

One  of  the  sample  cases  rolled  out,  and  Mrs.  Orlit- 
son  gave  it  a  savage  kick,  because  Mr.  Orlitson's  method 
of  keeping  himself  supplied  with  expensive  soaps, 
liqueur  brandy,  embrocations,  chocolate,  liver  tonics, 
rose-brilliantine,  etc.,  etc.,  without  the  inconvenience  of 
subsequent  expenditure,  grated  upon  a  certain  sense  of 
honour  which,  unseen  and  unsuspected,  lurked  within 
her  breast. 

In  fact  she  had  at  times  even  gone  so  far  as  to  se- 
cretly purchase  small  quantities  of  the  satisfactory 
samples,  in  order  to  soothe  her  conscience-by-marriage. 

Mrs.  Orlitson's  sense  of  honour  may  have  been  dis- 
torted and  of  a  somewhat  Jesuitical  variety,  but  it  was 
nevertheless  an  existent  quality. 

After  the  roulette  wheel  had  been  consigned  to  the 
limbo  of  the  cupboard,  Katherine  proceeded  to  clear  the 
table,  making  a  great  many  more  journeys  to  and  from 
the  little  back  scullery  than  was  at  all  necessary. 


THE     WILD    WIDOW  17 

She  cleared  the  table  like  an  undomesticated  woman 
and  washed  up  after  the  manner  of  one  loathing  her 
task. 

Not  one  dish  was  scraped  or  denuded  of  its  lingering 
contents  before  being  plunged  into  a  tin  bowl  of  1 
water,  with  the  result  that  chipped  crockery,  crar 
glass,  and  dented  plate  were  all  cleansed  (?)  in  ai 
savoury  potage  of  tinned  lobster  leavings,  pickle 
ings,  and  heavy  jam  tart  leavings. 

The  method  was  not  satisfactory,  but  in  due  course 
Katherine's  washing  up  was  accomplished  and  the  pil- 
low-slip— which  had  been  pressed  into  service  when  all 
kitchen  cloths  were  wet — hung  on  the  back  of  a  chair 
to  dry. 

Then  there  was  the  parlour  to  be  tidied — in  fact  re- 
sweeping  was  necessary,  owing  to  Mr.  Orlitson's  easy 
methods  of  shaking  out  his  tobacco  pouch  over  the 
floor  and  gesticulating  with  crumbly  pieces  of  bread — 
the  scuttle  to  be  replenished,  the  scullery  to  be  scrubbed, 
and  the  kettle  filled  for  tea. 

In  a  pitiful,  finicking  way  Katherine  went  about  these 
uninspiring  tasks,  holding  up  her  skirts  at  the  newest 
hip  angle  and  tripping  out  to  the  coal  cellar  with  all  the 
daintiness  of  a  successful  demimondaine  crossing  Picca- 
dilly Circus. 

At  last  everything  was  finished  and 

"Damn!"   * 

There  is  no  use  denying  the  word,  or  even  putting  a 
consonant  followed  by  a  dash,  for  nothing  but  the  un- 
clipped  expletive  left  Mrs.  Orlitson's  lips  as  she  dropped 


18  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

a  shovelful  of  soft  coal  over  the  newly  scrubbed  scullery 
floor. 

She  looked  at  the  coal,  she  repeated  the  remark,  then 
sat  down  on  a  small  inverted  packing  case  and  burst 
into  tears. 

"  I  can't  go  on  at  this ! "  she  cried  insensibly,  speak- 
ing aloud  as  though  the  chipped  plates  resting  on  the 
dresser  formed  an  appreciative  gallery  audience.  "  I 
wasn't  meant  for  it — some  women  aren't,  and  I'm  one  of 
them!  I  must  get  money — I  must — I  must — not 
a  little  money,  but  lots! — and  lots!  I'm  a  failure — a 
failure  on  the  stage — a  failure  in  marriage,  and  a  fail- 
ure in  c-c-c-carrying  coal !  " 

The  outburst  was  brief  owing  to  Mrs.  Orlitson's 
sense  of  humour — which  was  evidenced  by  the  shape  of 
her  inartistic  nose. 

She  picked  up  the  shovel,  laughed  hilariously,  re- 
cleaned  the  scullery,  then,  after  mixing  and  drinking 
a  gentlemanly  whisky  and  soda,  went  upstairs  to  the 
small  bedroom  on  the  first  and  last  floor. 

Roger  was  out  as  testified  by  his  indoor  once-grey 
flannel  trousers  and  once-blue  blazer  lying  on  the  floor 
beside  a  pair  of  list  slippers,  and  near  to  a  grimy  soft 
collar  and  greasy  green  tie. 

Mrs.  Orlitson  cleared  this  customary  debris  and 
"  dressed  "  to  go  out — for  even  at  Seedlingditch,  where 
only  the  idiot  pedlar  or  deaf  postman  were  likely  to  be 
encountered,  she  never  allowed  her  striking  henna-tinted 
hair  to  be  less  ondule  than  was  strictly  becoming,  or  her 
very  beautiful  waist  to  relax  a  single  inch. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  19 

But  to  be  candid,  Katherine  Orlitson's  waist  never 
wished  to  relax,  and  even  though  she  might  wear  cheap 
corsets  with  every  bone  and  side  steel  broken,  the  beauti- 
ful waist  always  retained  that  natural  frontal  dip 
which  saves  every  physical  situation. 

So  long  as  a  woman's  waist  is  willing  to  go  down  in 
the  front  she  may  still  retain  hopes  of  being  able  to  do 
something  she  oughtn't  to  do,  and  of  getting  black- 
balled from  her  club. 

To-day  Mrs.  Orlitson  put  on  a  short  grey  tweed 
skirt,  one  of  those  convenient  shirt-blouses  that  are  mer- 
cifully concealing  to  bad  figures  and  humbly  subservi- 
ent to  good  ones,  a  short  coat,  a  straw  hat  which  set 
exactly  as  it  ought  to  set  on  the  top  of  a  great  red 
plait,  and  a  narrow,  shiny  scarlet  belt. 

Her  long,  thin  throat  was  swathed  and  well  arranged, 
and  her  pointed  hips  were  satisfactory  in  their  fleshless 
protuberance. 

The  flip  of  an  old  powder-puff  about  her  nose  and 
chin,  one  curl  pulled  out  by  a  hat  pin,  a  touch  of  crim- 
son lip  salve,  and  Mrs.  Roger  Orlitson  was  ready  for 
her  walk. 

She  stepped  out  of  the  mouldy  little  cottage  into 
buoyant  late  winter  air  made  warm  by  young  spring 
sunshine. 

Should  she  go  to  meet  Roger?  No,  probably  he 
would  return  before  she  was  ready  to  come  home,  and 
quite  possibly  he  had  gone  the  other  way — besides,  what 
could  they  have  to  say  to  each  other  out  of  doors  that 
they  hadn't  said  indoors  during  the  dreary,  intermin- 


20  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

able  week  which  had  passed  since  they  rented  the  Seed- 
lingditch  cottage  in  order  to  retrench. 

Katherine  looked  at  the  road  leading  to  the  village, 
decided  she  wouldn't  take  it,  and  proceeded  to  cross 
a  stile  with  all  the  fuss  of  a  woman  meant  to  live  in 
towns. 

But  the  air  was  effervescent,  the  fields  were  green — 
if  unpicturesquely  level — the  sky  was  blue  with  the  pale 
turquoise  of  very  young,  almost  unborn  spring — and 
life  could  hold  many  possibilities  for  a  thin  woman  of 
twenty-eight. 

Yes,  many  possibilities,  almost  limitless  ones,  if  only 
the  soul-stultifying  ban  of  enforced  retrenchment  could 
be  removed. 

Katherine  walked  over  the  emerald  grass  and  tried 
to  pretend  she  was  rich — a  mental  game  which  had  been 
called  very  much  into  requisition  since  the  retrenching 
stay  at  Seedlingditch  began. 

The  game  was  played  without  much  variation — 
usually  an  oblong  envelope  containing  a  solicitor's  an- 
nouncement that  some  forgotten  relative  or  acquaint- 
ance had  died  leaving  Katherine  Orlitson — nee  Ben- 
stead,  daughter  of  the  late  Percy  and  Melita  Benstead 
— a  fortune  varying  from  many,  to  very  many,  thou- 
sands. 

To-day  the  thousands  were  only  moderate  in  quan- 
tity, because  directly  they  came  into  the  legatee's  pos- 
session she  would,  by  means  of  old  Jonathan  Laurence's 
roulette  scheme,  be  able  to  increase  them  to  quite  an 
elastic  extent. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  21 

Katharine's  light  grey  eyes  grew  darker,  as  they  al- 
ways did  when  she  played  the  mental-fortune  game  with 
any  degree  of  enthusiasm. 

She  would  first  settle  all  details  of  her  inheritance, 
then,  after  buying  a  selection  of  well-cut  gowns  and 
well-planned  hats,  would  take  a  first-class  through  ticket 
to  Nice. 

Yes,  she  would  go  to  Monte,  she  would  take  one  reg- 
ular seat  at  one  regular  table,  and — and 

"  Ah!-h-h-h!  " 

The  exclamation  came  like  a  hot  breath  between  her 
closed,  white,  uneven  teeth,  while  the  thin  hands,  which 
carried  two  odd  gloves  and  a  six-penny  cane,  tightened 
their  grip. 

It  would  be  so  wonderful  if  somehow  this  could  hap- 
pen. If,  after  years  of  struggle  and  longing,  culmi- 
nating in  an  unsuccessful  marriage  with  a  likeable  man 
who  never  cultivated  his  earning  capacity,  she  could 
spend  money  lavishly. 

Not  an  occasional  jaunt,  not  an  infrequent  extrava- 
gance, but  just  a  systematic  having  all  those  things 
which  the  monde  de  luxe,  seen  in  its  most  modest  as- 
pects, enjoys. 

Many  rings  on  her  fingers,  ruby  pendants  for  red 
gowns,  a  turquoise  and  diamond  set  of  ornaments  for 
blue  gowns,  and  a  liberal  selection  of  diamonds — hats 
of  every  sort  and  shape — frocks  for  most  occasions,  and 
quickly  discarded — shoes  to  match,  and  not  to  match — 
an  electric  brougham — a  trio  or  quartette  of  silent  ser- 
vants— a  gravely  furnished  flat  in  a  right  locality — 


22  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

nothing  extensive — nothing  excessive,  but  just  affluence 
enough  to  make  existence  a  gloriously  valuable  asset. 

A  fierce  primitive  excitement  surged  through  Kath- 
erine's  whole  body,  and  her  limbs  quivered  with  actual 
physical  exaltation,  for  she  had  played  the  game  of 
mental  make-believe  so  well  that  the  many  rings  seemed 
positively  to  be  weighting  her  fingers  and  cutting  into 
the  flesh  as  she  tightened  her  grip  upon  the  sixpenny 
stick. 

But  yet  this  was  not  avarice,  not  the  cruel  hungry 
passion  of  a  miser — merely  the  luxurious  woman's  nat- 
ural longing  for  luxury. 

Katherine  once  more  breathed  deeply  through  her 
clenched  teeth,  after  which  the  gay  mental  picture  be- 
gan slowly  to  fade  away,  like  the  lingering  departure  of 
a  rainbow  when  the  sun  wins  an  entire  supremacy  over 
shower. 

The  diamonds  were  gone,  the  electric  brougham  had 
glided  away,  the  flat  was  dissolving,  and  instead — why  a 
man's  leg  in  a  dark  blue  trouser  and  the  curve  of  a 
brown-bearded  cheek  showing  beneath  a  tilted-forward 
straw  hat! 

Katherine  Orlitson  jerked  herself  back  to  realities. 

Roger  had  gone  out  in  his  blue  suit  and  straw  hat. 
Roger's  cheek  was  brown  and  bearded,  and  even  though 
Roger  did  spend  most  of  the  day  in  bed,  it  would  not 
come  at  all  amiss  for  him  to  lie  down  amidst  short,  sweet, 
cool,  green  grass  and  repair  any  havoc  which  the  ex- 
haustion of  a  two-mile  walk  might  have  wrought. 

At  first  Katherine  decided  not  to  wake  her  husband, 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  23 

but  then,  actuated  by  a  mild  desire  for  human  com- 
panionship and  human  converse — Roger  was  always 
companionable  and  conversational — made  up  her  mind 
to  spoil  Roger's  slumbrous  serenity. 

She  walked  a  few  steps  forward,  touched  a  large,  gen- 
tlemanly hand — which  was  cold  like  flesh  just  plunged 
into  iced  water — jerked  aside  the  straw  hat,  then  uttered 
a  restrained,  yet  vibrant,  scream,  unconsciously  melo- 
dramatic in  its  timbre. 

The  gallery  had  always  applauded  that  scream  in 
days  gone  by. 


CHAPTER   III 

DK.  MORGAN  T.  B.  SPHAIT  sat  before  his  consulting- 
room  fire  drinking  a  cup  of  tea  and  reading  the  current 
issue  of  the  Seedlingditch  Herald. 

He  was  a  large,  pink,  splendid,  handsome  man,  this 
doctor,  who  had  the  monopoly  of  every  sick  or  semi- 
sick  person  living  within  a  ten-mile  radius  of  Seedling- 
ditch,  with  a  beautiful  heartiness  of  voice  and  manner 
which  effectually  deceived  guileless  patients  as  to  the 
excellent  qualities  of  his  disposition. 

By  way  of  advertisement  he  made  it  a  rule  to  attend 
a  few  of  the  very  poorest  cottages  without  charge,  and 
his  blazing  red  motor  might  occasionally  be  seen  wait- 
ing for  hours  at  a  stretch  opposite  some  miserable  hovel, 
inside  which  an  utterly  unneeded  morsel  of  humanity 
was  being  brought  forth  to  take  part  in  the  universal 
scheme  of  indirect  slaughter  and  robbery  which  goes 
by  the  name  of  existence. 

This  did  not  often  happen,  and  the  uncharged  pa- 
tients were  few  and  far  between,  but  both  advertisements 
were  produced  with  sufficient  frequency  to  cause  Dr. 
Sphait  to  be  regarded  as  "  the  poor  man's  friend,"  as 
well  as  a  soundly  clever  practitioner. 

Once  or  twice  timid  would-be  usurpers,  with  feebly 
glowing  small  red  lamps  and  second-hand  bicycles,  had 
made  efforts  at  self-establishment ;  but  even  though  with 

34 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  25 

noble  generosity  Dr.  Sphait  sent  them  an  intermittent 
patient  or  two — generally  some  of  the  non-paying  bri- 
gade— they  were  forced  to  slink  away  leaving  no  traces 
behind  except  a  few  bottles  which  had  never  needed  fill- 
ing with  medicine. 

The  big  red  man  and  the  big  red  motor-car  carried 
all  before  them,  for  though  Seedlingditch  was  in  it- 
self a  sparsely  populated  little  town — or  village — the 
motor  and  the  telephone  had  made  Dr.  Sphait  able  to  do 
serious  harm  to  various  placid  practitioners  residing 
at  Cumley,  Bridgebart,  Munchwater,  and  other  reach- 
able localities. 

It  is  true  that  one  of  the  unsuccessful  competitors, 
who  had  been  forced  to  take  down  his  red  lamp  before 
three  months  had  elapsed,  was  once  heard  to  assert  that 
"  Dr.  Morgan  Sphait,  his  motor,  and  his  reputation 
were  merely  subsisting  on  *  puff,1  and  that  one  day  the 
bubble  would  burst.'9 

But  as  no  one  quite  knew  what  the  "  bubble "  was 
supposed  to  contain,  and  were  somewhat  vague  as  to  the 
exact  meaning  of  the  word  "  puff  "  when  used  in  this 
application,  Dr.  Sphait's  popularity  remained  unabated. 

One  excellent  widow  lady  whose  daughter  suffered 
from  varicose  veins  in  the  leg  had  been  known  to  sug- 
gest that  it  would  be  "  more — er — comfortable  if  Dr. 
Sphait  were  a  married  man,"  but  when  the  varicose- 
veined  daughter  secured  the  affections  of  an  earnest 
curate,  the  widow  ceased  lamenting  on  her  medical  ad- 
viser's celibacy. 

And  now  no  one  in  the  least  troubled  because  Morgan 


26  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

Sphait*s  house  was  managed  by  an  elderly  working 
housekeeper  instead  of  a  young  idling  wife. 

He  was  so  cheery,  kind,  sympathetic,  and  profession- 
ally sexless  that  the  most  sensitive  spinster  felt  no  tre- 
mors at  calling  him  to  her  bedside. 

"  'E's  one  of  them  gentlemen  as  seem  born  married !  " 
remarked  the  grocer's  wife  when  he  had  brought  her 
ninth  into  its  inheritance  of  sugar  and  candles.  And 
that  summing-up  defined  the  outward  aspect  of  Dr. 
Morgan  Sphait. 

"  Bagslowe,  I  should  like  another  round  of  buttered 
toast,"  he  was  just  remarking  after  summoning  the 
excellent  working  housekeeper,  when  a  loud  peal  at  the 
patient's  bell  made  him  realise  that  the  second  buttered 
round  must  be  deferred  until  some  rural  pulse  had  been 
felt,  and  a  bottle  filled  with  twelve  doses  of  absolutely 
harmless  tinted  fluid. 

Bagslowe  hurried  away  to  open  the  door — it  was  the 
thirteen-year-old  page's  afternoon  off  duty — and  re- 
turned a  moment  later  with  a  scared  expression  on  her 
respectable  face. 

"Who  is  it,  Bagslowe?"  asked  Dr.  Sphait  cheerily. 
He  even  kept  up  the  cheeriness  in  the  domestic  seclusion 
of  his  own  home. 

"  It's  a  lady,  sir — a  stranger — and  she's  carrying  on 
awful,  without  seeming  as  if  she  was  carrying  on, 
like!" 

"  A  lady — do  you  mean  a  lady  ?  "  Bagslowe  had 
once  been  upper  housemaid  to  a  recognised  county  fam- 
ily, so  could  be  relied  upon  for  nice  distinctions. 


THE    WILD     WIDOW  27 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir — at  least  ladies  as  they  are  now,  sir — 
nothing  like  Seedlingditch,  sir." 

"  Aha !  "  Dr.  Sphait  pulled  down  an  inch  more  cuff. 
"  And  is  she " 

"  Oh,  pray,  pray,  don't  keep  me  waiting — let  me  come 
in  !  let  me  come  in !  "  cried  a  low,  thrilling,  frenzied  voice 
from  the  hall. 

Dr.  Sphait  opened  the  door,  and  as  Bagslowe  dis- 
creetly slipped  away,  the  "  lady  "  dashed  into  the  room 
regardless  of  any  good  manners  she  may  have  ever  had 
the  excellent  fortune  to  possess. 

She  wore  a  grey  tweed  skirt,  a  now  crushed  and  soiled 
white  shirt  blouse,  a  shiny  vermilion  waistbelt,  and  a 
straw  hat  which  was  half  falling  off  her  head,  while 
masses  of  beautiful  red  hair  escaped  from  their  moor- 
ings, and  in  many  places  burst  through  the  confinement 
of  a  torn  fringe-net. 

"  Good-day,  and  what  may  I "  began  Dr.  Sphait 

with  his  more  refined  cheeriness  which  was  reserved  for 
better-class  patients,  should  any  happen  to  stray  that 
way. 

But  the  "  lady,"  allowing  emotion  to  overstep  good 
manners,  interrupted. 

"  You  must  come  with  me  at  once — my  husband — I 
believe — I  am  sure  he  is  dead — dead!  "  she  cried  wildly, 
while  her  light  grey  eyes  gazed  unseeingly  at  her  com- 
panion's splendid  Norse-king-with-a-touch-of -John-Bui) 
personality. 

"  My  dear  lady " 

"  Our  name  is  Orlitson.     We  took  Spar  Cottage,  fur- 


28  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

nished,  and  came  there  a  week  ago.  You  must  come 
with  me — now — now !  " 

"  But,  Mrs.  Orlitson,  pray  explain,  no  matter  how 
briefly,  the — er — circumstances " 

"  My  husband  went  out  for  a  walk  directly  after 
dinner.  I  went  out  an  hour  later,  and,  crossing  the 
fields,  saw  him  lying  down  upon  the  grass.  I  touched 
him.  I — I — knew — at — once " 

Here  the  slurred  deep  utterance  ceased,  and  shud- 
dering, Katherine  Orlitson  covered  her  face  with  two 
thin  white  hands. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  quite  mistaken  in  your  grave  con- 
jectures, Mrs.  Orlitson,"  answered  Dr.  Sphait,  moder- 
ating his  cheeriness  to  the  level  of  a  more  hopeful  re- 
assurance as  he  stretched  out  one  large  finger  and  rang 
the  bell.  "  A  sudden  and  quite  brief  seizure  will  often 

mislead  the Order  the  car  instantly  " — as  Bags- 

lowe  appeared  in  answer  to  this  summons — "  and  put 
brandy  and  smelling  salts  in  the  basket." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Er — yes,  it  is  quite  common " 

"  No,  there  is  no  deception.  I  felt  his  hand.  Ah, 
I  shall  never  forget!  Oh,  let  us  go — norm — it's  no  use 
waiting  for  the  car.  I  ran  all  the  way !  " 

"  All  the  more  reason,  my  dear  lady,  why  you  should 
not  run  all  the  way  back,  and  as  the  car  will  be  ready  in 
three  minutes  we  shall  arrive  in  less  than  half  the  time," 
replied  Dr.  Sphait,  speaking  in  those  tones  of  cheap 
spurious  firmness  very  much  in  vogue  amongst  medi- 
cal advisers  to  the  lower  middle  classes. 


THE     WILD    WIDOW  29 

Spurious  firmness  is  one  valuable  professional  asset 
and  bluff  cheeriness  another,  for  both,  in  some  vague 
manner,  cause  the  patient  to  feel  that  he  or  she  is  pos- 
sessed of  a  temperament.  And  the  lower  middle  classes 
of  to-day  are  beginning  to  faintly  comprehend  the  so- 
cial cachet  which  is  conferred  by  a  temperament. 

The  brisk  sternness  apparently  proved  of  service  in 
Mrs.  Orlitson's  case,  for  it  became  evident  that  she  was 
making  a  giant  effort  to  keep  her  emotions  under  con- 
trol. 

Both  hands  were  tightly  gripped  round  the  sixpenny 
wooden  stick,  her  pointed  chin  was  thrust  forward  and 
her  reddened  lips  compressed  tightly  together,  while 
strained,  staring,  light  grey  eyes  fixed  themselves  on  a 
vacancy  that  seemed  miles  and  miles  away. 

Every  now  and  then  a  very  faint  moan  escaped  her 
lips,  but  it  was  only  when  a  sudden  sound  of  snorting 
and  puffing  announced  the  car's  arrival  that  she  dashed 
to  her  feet  and  uttered  one  cry  of  relief. 

"  Thank  Heaven !  Now  we  shall  know — we  shall 
know!  "  she  muttered,  rushing  out  of  the  room  and  out 
of  the  house  while  Dr.  Sphait  followed,  buttoning  his 
huge  overcoat  over  a  huge  chest  and  a  stethoscope. 

"  Where  is  the  field?  "  he  asked,  still  keeping  up  the 
soothing  sternness. 

Katherine  explained.  Dr.  Sphait  nodded  to  the 
chauffeur,  and  the  great  red  car  darted  forward. 

"  Are  you  and  your  husband  living  alone  at  Spar 
Cottage,  Mrs.  Orlitson?  " 

"  Yes,  quite  alone." 


30  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  You  haven't  any  servant  or  charwoman  about  ? " 

"  No.  We  came  here  to  retrench.  I  have  been  doing 
everything — only  we  two  in  the  cottage.  And  now — 
now  I  shall  be  al — al " 

"  Now  this  won't  do,  Mrs.  Orlitson.  Please  remem- 
ber, for  the  sake  of  everybody  concerned,  it  is  necessary 

for  you  to  keep  your  feelings  under  control,  and 

Ah,  this  is  the  field,  isn't  it?     We  must  get  out  and  walk 
across." 

Katherine  nodded  dumbly,  and  once  more  strained 
forward  her  chin  and  fixed  her  light  wild  eyes  on  space. 

Mechanically  she  permitted  Dr.  Sphait  to  assist  her 
to  alight,  then  in  silence  the  small  thin  woman  and  the 
heavy  stout  man  trod  the  emerald  grass,  but  newly  re- 
leased from  its  thraldom  of  frost — tiD  suddenly  Kath- 
erine halted  and  pointed  to  the  right. 

"  O — ver  th — ere !  "  she  whispered. 

Dr.  Sphait  nodded  and  administered  one  encouraging 
pat  on  her  shoulder. 

"  You  sit  down  and  wait  here,  Mrs.  Orlitson.  I'll 
come  and  tell  you  directly  I  know." 

Katherine  slid  down  on  the  moist  grass — right  down 
— and  buried  her  face  on  her  arms. 

She  didn't  want  to  see,  know,  or  hear  anything  till 
she  was  forced  to  see,  know,  and  hear — everything! 

The  moments  passed  and  the  cold  wind  blew  above 
her  head.  She  could  picture  what  was  happening — 
the  collar  being  loosened — the  waistcoat  unbuttoned — 
the  shirt  pushed  aside — and  the  stethoscope  being  gently 
dabbed  down  on  place  after  place. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  31 

And  the  eyelids.  He  would  raise  the  eyelids — she 
had  read  that  this  was  part  of  the  ghastly  procedure — 
and  learn  the  secrets  revealed  beneath.  He  would 

Once  again  a  large  hand  was  laid  upon  her  shoulder 
— not  a  pat  of  encouragement  this  time. 

Katherine's  red  head  was  lifted. 

"Yes— well?— tell  me." 

"  I  grieve  to  say,  Mrs.— er " 

"  Orlitson.     I  told  you  our  name  was  Orlitson." 

"  I  grieve  to  say,  Mrs. — er — Orlitson,  that  your  sad 
conjecture  was  correct.  Your  husband  is  dead!" 

Katherine  rose  stiffly  to  her  feet  and  swayed  slightly. 

"Dead!     Roger  dead!— he— ah !-h-h-h ! " 

The  cry  was  long  and  shrill — the  natural,  unre- 
strained outcome  of  a  shock  and  terror  that  were  uncon- 
trollable. 

Dr.  Sphait  gripped  her  by  the  wrist. 

"  Mrs.  Orlitson,  you  must  not  give  way  like  this. 
You  must  compose  yourself,"  he  said  authoritatively. 

But  as  he  spoke  he  noticed — it  was  a  grotesque  mo- 
ment to  notice  such  things — the  unusual  softness  of  her 
skin,  the  straight  slimness  of  her  swathed  throat,  the 
perfection  of  her  waist,  and  the  profusion  of  her  red 
hair. 

The  widow's  features  were  imperfect,  but  she  was  an 
attractive-looking  woman. 

"  I  will  try — I  will  try,"  she  moaned.  "  But — but — 
it  is — I  can't  realise — it  seems  incredible — he  started 
out  for  his  walk  so  perfectly  well  and  strong,  complain- 
ing of  nothing  but  a  slight  headache " 


32  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  A  slight  headache !  Ah !  That  was  a  symptom, 
so  far  as  can  be  seen  by  a  brief  examination,  your  hus- 
band has  died  from  a  sudden  rush  of  blood  to  the  head, 
immediately  followed  by  syncope.  Has  he  recently  suf- 
fered from  any  shock  ?  " 

"  Nothing — nothing.  We  have  been  in  financial  dif- 
ficulties, but  he  never  allowed  anything  to  prey  on  his 
mind  and — oh,  let  me  go  back.  I  can't  wait  here.  Let 
me  go  to  the  cottage  and  prepare  for — for — his  home- 
coming." Dr.  Sphait  glanced  down  swiftly  and  keenly. 
This  last  remark  savoured  of  the  drama  or  a  Methodist 
hymn. 

"  Yes,  you  go  and  we — my  chauffeur  and  I — 
will " 

"  Yes — yes.     I  can't  stay.     I  can't " 

And  without  one  look  at  the  lifeless  body  which  was 
flesh  of  her  flesh  and  bone  of  her  bone,  Katherine  Orlit- 
son  darted  across  the  gay  green  grass. 

Unencumbered  by  an  ounce  of  superfluous  flesh,  or 
the  pressure  of  corsets  forced  to  enclose  more  than 
their  circumference  would  admit,  she  ran  with  incredible 
swiftness,  reaching  the  cottage  before  Dr.  Sphait  and 
his  chauffeur  had  lifted  their  inert  burden  into  the  car. 

The  low  wooden  front  door  was  open.  She  entered, 
and,  after  closing  it,  turned  the  lock. 


CHAPTER  IV 

. "  ORLITSON. — On  April  24th,  at  Spar  Cottage,  Seed- 
lingditch  (suddenly),  Roger  Orlitson,  aged  30.  Deeply 
mourned." 

"  Oh,  Charles,  how  terrible ! "  cried  Lady  Chesham, 
who  had  just  read  this  announcement. 

"  Whatsh  terrible  ?  "  enquired  Sir  Charles,  a  tall,  lean 
man  who  has  secured  his  personality  by  means  of  a  semi- 
inarticulate  utterance  combined  with  a  perseveringly  ac- 
quired vein  of  cynicism  and  his  comfortable  affluence, 
by  means  of  his  wife's  banking  account. 

Lady  Chesham  handed  him  across  the  paper. 

"  Ur !  A  man  must  die  some  day.  Thirty  ishn't  a 
bad  age ! " 

"Poor  Katherine!" 

"  Lucky  Katherine,  pVaps !  Better  ask  her  up  to 
sthay,  hadn't  you?  Expect  she  wantshs  a  feminine 
shoulder  to  cry  on !  " 

Lady  Chesham  didn't  answer  quite  at  once.  She 
would  be  very  glad  to  have  poor  Katherine  for  a  week, 
even  though  the  St.  Monarch's  charges  were  high.  But 
if  poor  Katherine  was  quite  destitute,  the  week  might 
stretch  and 

"  Inshured,  washn't  he?  " 

Lady  Chesham  jerked,  and  an  expression  of  satis- 
faction instantly  settled  on  her  face. 

33 


34,  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

Of  course  she  remembered  Katherine  had  told  her 
that  when  she  and  her  husband  were  on  their  honey- 
moon an  eccentric  semi-millionaire — whom  Roger  had 
adriotly  saved  from  falling  down  an  elevator  shaft — 
insisted  on  insuring  the  bridegroom's  life  for  the  useful 
sum  of  £2,000,  paying  the  premium  four  years  in  ad- 
vance. 

Roger  had  ventured  to  point  out  that,  by  this  gen- 
erous arrangement,  he  would  never  gain  any  advantage 
from  Mr.  Van  Bolorst's  noble  recognition  of  his  slight 
service;  whereat  Mr.  Van  Bolorst  had  presented  him 
with  a  two-guinea  turquoise  pin,  and  insisted  on  his  de- 
cision that  it  was  "  the  womenfolk  who  mattered." 

Thus  the  hard-up  Mrs.  Orlitson  would  undoubtedly 
come  into  £2,000. 

"Of  course  he  was  insured.  I  really  had  forgotten 
it.  You  have  an  excellent  memory,  Charles!  Yes,  I'll 
most  undoubtedly  ask  the  poor  girl  up  here  for  a  week 
directly  the  funeral  is  over,"  was  Lady  Chesham's  re- 
ply to  her  husband's  last  remark. 

Sir  Charles'  mouth  moved  sideways  beneath  the  shelter 
of  a  couple  of  dozen  hay-coloured  hairs,  while  his  wife 
instantly  sat  down  in  front  of  the  writing-table  and 
penned  a  suitable  missive. 


"  My  poor,  dearest  Katherine, — We  have  just  seen 
the  sad  announcement.  Do  write  and  tell  all  particulars, 
dearie.  My  heart  grieves  for  you.  Now,  directly  the 
funeral  is  over,  Charles  and  I  insist  that  you  come  here 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  85 

and  put  in  a  week  with  us.     Do  tell  me  your  plans,  and 
let  me  know  if  I  can  help  in  any  way. 
"  With  deep  sympathy, 

*'  Ever  your  true  friend, 

"  EVELYN  CHESHAM." 

"That'll  do,  won't  it?"  said  the  "true  friend," 
handing  the  letter  over  to  her  husband. 

"  Yesh,  thatsh's  all  right.  Shouldn't  you  have  stuck 
in  a  bit  of  scriptural  consolation  or  something?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  not  for  Katherine — she  isn't  that  sort !  " 

Sir  Charles  chuckled.     He  never  thought  she  was. 

For  over  a  week  Lady  Chesham's  letter  of  sympathy 
received  no  reply,  but  on  the  tenth  day  after  its  depart- 
ure a  black-bordered  envelope  found  its  way  to  sitting- 
room  No.  12  at  the  St.  Monarch's  Hotel. 

"From  poor  Katherine  at  last!"  she  ejaculated. 

"  Ur !  "  responded  Sir  Charles.  "  Whatsh  poor  Kath- 
erine say?  " 

Lady  Chesham  tore  open  the  heavily-bordered  en- 
velope and  proceeded  to  read  aloud  its  contents. 

"  My  dearest  Evelyn, — You  must  have  thought  ter- 
rible things  of  me  for  not  having  answered  your  dear 
womanly  note  before,  but  somehow  I  felt  it  was  impos- 
sible to  write  till  everything  was  over. 

"Everything  is  over  now,  and  I  am  absolutely  alone 
in  the  world ! 

"  As  you  saw  by  the  paper,  the  death  occurred  on 
the  24th.  I  found  the  poor  boy  lying  on  the  grass — 


36  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

dead!  Fancy,  Evelyn,  dead  just  when  snowdrops  and 
crocuses  are  being  born !  Isn't  it  too  sad,  too  piti- 
ful? 

"  The  doctor  who  attended  pronounced  death  to  be 
due  to  a  sudden  rush  of  blood  to  the  head,  followed  by 
syncope.  So  absolutely  sudden — so  absolutely  unex- 
pected ! — so  absolutely  awful ! 

"  The  funeral  took  place  on  the  27th  at  Seedlingditch 
churchyard,  and  I  have  given  up  this  place :  I  couldn't 
stay  in  it  now — even  the  thought  of  it  terrifies  me.  And 
there  was  the  inquest! 

"  Evelyn,  I  don't  think  I  ever  knew  how  much  I  loved 
my  husband  till  now — when  we  are  parted ! 

"  As  you  know,  I  am  not  a  sentimental  woman,  but 
there  is  a  terrible,  terrible  ache  at  my  heart. 

"  You  are  dear  and  sweet  enough  to  ask  me  to  come 
to  you  for  a  week. 

"  Nothing  would  do  me  so  much  good,  and  if  you  will 
have  me,  I'll  arrive  on  Tuesday  and  remain  till  the  fol- 
lowing Tuesday,  when — but  I'll  tell  you  all  my  plans 
when  we  meet. 

"With  all  love, 
"Your  affectionate  and  grateful 

"  KATHERINE. 

"  P.S. — Poor  darling  Roger's  life  was  insured  for 
£2,000 — you  remember  I  told  you  about  Mr.  Van 
Bolorst  in  Cairo? — so  financially  I  am  all  right  at  pres- 
ent." 

"  Er — ur — she  doesh   seem   cut  up,  doeshn't  she  ?  " 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  37 

was  Sir  Charles'  first  mumble.  "  But  the — ur — 
postscript's  very  satisfactory  —  postscripts  often 
are!" 

Lady  Chesham  paid  no  heed  to  whatever  insistent 
satire  might  have  been  intended  by  this  final  observa- 
tion, for  the  reason  that,  having  bought  her  husband 
by  a  liberal  retaining  fee,  there  was  no  need  for  her  to 
either  smile  at  his  jests  or  discuss  his  theories.  Besides, 
she  was  busy  wording  a  sixpenny  wire  telling  dearest 
Katherine  that  she  was  expected  for  certain  on  Tues- 
day. 

And  for  certain  on  Tuesday  "  dearest  Katherine " 
appeared. 

Lady  Chesham  had  not  been  advised  as  to  the  exact 
time  of  her  arrival,  therefore,  when  at  five  o'clock  a 
rigid  waiter  announced  "  Mrs.  Orlitson,"  the  hostess 
found  herself  unready  with  the  verbal  greetings  of 
mingled  tenderness  and  condolence  which  she  had  so 
carefully  prepared. 

However,  there  was  no  need  to  say  anything,  because 
when  Katherine  entered,  it  was  with  the  air  of  a  woman 
who  has  bravely  battled  down  all  public  evidences  of 
her  grief  and  who  doesn't  mean  to  be  a  nuisance  to  other 
people. 

And  never  had  Mrs.  Orlitson,  as  a  wife,  been  so  ef- 
fective as  now,  when  draped  in  the  trappings  of  dull 
black  bereavement. 

The  long  gown  fitted  gloriously,  and  the  perfection 
of  her  waist  was  unusually  emphasised.  Above  her  thin 
swathed  throat  was  a  white,  clear-skinned  face  crowned 


38  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

by  puffs  of  henna-tinted  hair  and  a  widow's  bonnet — an 
almost  indecently  becoming  widow's  bonnet — her  light 
grey  eyes  were  half  closed,  as  though  to  momentarily 
shut  out  memory's  sad  pictures,  and  her  thin  powdered 
chin  was  thrust  upwards. 

She  glided  forward  and  found  the  haven  of  Lady 
Chesham's  arms. 

Two  kisses — one  long  breath  that  went  into  several 
syllables — a  swift  loosening  of  the  swathing  neck  ar- 
rangements— and  then  Mrs.  Orlitson  had  evidently  got 
her  emotions  pluckily  under  control. 

"  Dearest  Evelyn,  you  can't  think  how  glad  I  am  to 
come,"  she  said,  speaking  in  the  low,  slurring  voice  that 
was  more  thrillful  than  ever.  "  D-d-don't  say  anything 
kind  to  me — will  you,  dear?  And  don't  let  Sir  Charles 
say  anything  kind.  I  h-have  suffered — the  shock  has 
been  paralysing — death,  Evelyn,  death!  I  have  never 
seen  it  before !  Ah  !-h-h !  Let  me  take  up  new  threads 
— do  not  let  us  allude  to  anything.  You  understand? 
You  are  the  one  comprehending  woman  who  can  under- 
stand!" 

"  Of  course  I  am,  dearie,"  replied  Lady  Chesham, 
feeling  gratified  without  knowing  it.  "  You  must  let 
us  pet  you  and  take  care  of  you — for  a  week.  And  now 
tea!" 

The  three  final  words  showed  tact,  and  Katherine  evi- 
denced her  gratitude  by  a  smile  that  was  brave,  as  she 
sank  into  a  very  low  chair — one  of  those  chairs  which 
seem  specially  built  as  a  mockery  to  stout  women  who 
are  obliged  to  wear  elongated  armour  in  the  way  of 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  39 

corsets — with  the  long  black  skirts  swirling  out  from 
her  knees  like  a  fan. 

Lady  Chesham  poured  out  the  creamed  tea,  then  led 
up  to  her  companion's  future  plans. 

"  You — er — are  staying  in  town  for  a  time  ?  "  she 
enquired  when  Katherine  had  refused  a  hot  scone.  It 
was  only  tea  she  seemed  to  want — tea — tea! 

"  Only  this  week  that  I  am  your  guest,"  she  answered, 
leaning  back  and  crossing  her  stylish  feet. 

"Oh!— er ?" 

"  When  I  leave  here  I  go  direct  to  Monte  Carlo ! " 

"  Kath—er—ine—e—e—e!  " 

Mrs.  Orlitson  laid  down  her  empty  cup,  and  thrust- 
ing out  her  chin,  spoke  a  long  sentence  with  de  Stael- 
like  volubility. 

"  Don't  try  to  stop  me — you  mustn't  try,  because  it 
will  be  absolutely  useless,  Evelyn.  I  must  have  some- 
thing to  distract  my  mind,  and  to  play  this  scheme  of 
Mary  Laurence's  grandfather  will  help.  Yes,  I  know 
you'll  tell  me  I  shall  lose  every  penny  of  this  insurance 
money.  So  I  shall,  very  likely — but  it's  to  be  either  lost 
or — or  quadrupled.  I  must  be  either  poor  or  rich, 
Evelyn,  and  the  tables  will  help  me  to  manage  either 
one  or  the  other.  If  I'm  poor,  I  suppose  I  shall  be 
downright  bad — and  if  I'm  rich  I  mean  to  be  down- 
right good — so  I  must  give  myself  a  chance  of 
downright  goodness.  My  temperament  is  one  which 
hates  anything  middle.  The  middle  classes — circum- 
stances midway  between  poverty  and  comfort — morals 
midway  between  virtue  and  vice — are  abhorrent  to  me. 


40  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

I  could  starve  or  go  to  the  bad  much  more  gracefully 
than  I  could  send  back  a  joint  because  it  was  tenpence 
too  much  in  price.  This  insurance  money  must  make 
me  either  a  beggar  or  a  substantially  rich  woman,  so 
don't  say  anything  about  the  chances  on  the  side  of 
the  bank,  or  the  average  of  three  suicides  a  day,  or  the 
cemetery  among  the  olive  groves  of  Caucade,  will  you? 
Be  your  own  tactful  understanding  self  and  realise  that 
a  little  sympathy  is  more  likely  to  work  human  salvation 
than  a  whole  catalogue  of  classified  warnings!  But  I 
know  you  will — I  know  you  will !  " 

And  as  Katherine  knew  she  would,  of  course  Evelyn 
Chesham  felt  she  must! 

"  I — I  do  sympathise,  dearie.  I — er — oh,  I  do,"  she 
replied  lamely.  She  mustn't  warn,  mustn't  argue,  so 
lame  sincerity  was  the  only  course  open. 

"  Thank  you,  dearest — how  sweet  you  are !  I  knew 
you  would!  Now,  will  you  add  companionship  to  sin- 
cerity— will  you  come  with  me?  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  I  couldn't  now  with  social  engage- 
ments getting  quite  thick — and  besides,  I  don't  think 
Charles  would  let  me  go  without  him." 

In  common  with  many  other  women  who  have  pur- 
chased a  husband — serial,  and  all  other  rights ! — Evelyn 
Chesham  made  a  pose  of  wifely  obedience,  while  Charles 
had  been  taught  to  understand  that  a  little  public  ty- 
ranny, gentlemanly  jealousy,  and  controlling  sternness 
were  among  the  duties  required  of  him — for  such  mani- 
festations did  much  to  erase  the  impression  that  Evelyn 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  41 

Leedbitter  hadn't  been  able  to  get  a  husband  without 
buying  one. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  daresay  he  wouldn't,"  replied  Katherine 
good-naturedly  accepting  the  situation  instead  of  de- 
manding that  Sir  Charles'  authority  should  be  displayed. 
"Well,  if  you  won't  come  with  me  I  go  alone — alone, 
Evelyn,  to  make  myself  into  a  rich  woman  or " 

The  missing  word  was  dramatic.  It  would  have  ap- 
pealed to  that  portion  of  the  gallery  which,  by  superior 
intelligence,  had  secured  the  first  rows. 


CHAPTER  V 

KATHERINE  OKLITSON  was  in  Nice. 

Half  an  hour  ago  she  had  arrived,  and  now  she  was 
unpacking  her  small  trunk,  which  filled  up  half  the 
space  of  a  small  bedroom  in  a  small  pension. 

For,  to  the  odorous  horrors  of  a  Riviera  pension,  Mrs. 
Orlitson  had  condemned  herself. 

Hotels  were  expensive,  and  until  she  could  be  very 
rich — of  course  there  were  other  contingencies — she 
would  continue  to  be  very  poor. 

But  Katherine  heeded  the  discomfort  of  a  palette  bed 
and  carpetless  floor  no  more  than  she  heeded  the  royal 
blue  sea  and  those  other  everlasting  glories  belonging  to 
the  South,  of  which  the  subscribing  novel-reader  has 
grown  so  weary. 

We  all  know  the  Riviera — fairly  well  if  we've  been 
there,  and  with  vivid  accuracy  if  we  haven't. 

We  know  all  about  those  palms — how  tired  we  are  of 
those  palms — we  are  fed  up  with  magnolias,  oleanders, 
and  flower-scented  air,  we  are  quite  fluent  about  "  the 
finest  band  in  the  world,"  and  as  for  the  view  from  the 
Casino  Terrace — well,  of  course  we  are  much  more  fa- 
miliar with  that  than  with  some  secluded  corners  of  our 
own  local  park ! 

During  the  journey  Katherine  had  demolished  an 
extraordinarily  small  quantity  of  food,  with  the  result 
that  now  she  knew  an  unwanted  meal  was  desperately 

42 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  43 

necessary — for  if  the  brain  is  to  be  kept  clear,  strength 
must  be  maintained. 

Occasionally  she  wondered  how  long  that  brain  would 
hold  out.  She  had  gone  through  so  much — she  was  go- 
ing through  so  much  more — and  every  now  and  then 
her  head  seemed  to  be  spinning  round  with  the  velocity 
of  a  wheel,  while  for  some  seconds  her  mind  remained 
a  complete  blank. 

Then  a  violent  jerk  and  a  gulped-down  whisky  and 
soda  would  bring  her  back  to  the  consciousness  that  she 
was  a  lonely  young  woman  wearing  widow's  weeds,  who 
had  come  for  a  jiu-jitsu  fight  with  luck. 

At  least  it  wasn't  luck — the  probability  of  success 
was  too  strong  for  the  word  "  luck  "  to  be  quite  ap- 
plicable. 

Katherine  flipped  the  old  powder  puff  across  her  in- 
sistent nose  and  chin  before  descending  to  the  salle  a 
manger. 

She  saw  a  piece  of  much-thumbed  roll,  and  a  pun  sug- 
gested itself — it  was  sal  a  manger! 

Katherine  laughed  to  herself  and  felt  better.  She 
tried  to  go  on  manufacturing  more  puns  so  that  other 
thoughts  should  leave  her  brain  at  rest  for  a  time  and — 

"  Salt,  madame  ?  " 

Katherine  started  and  turned  towards  her  neighbour, 
who  was  obviously  English.  That  "  madame  "  had  in- 
disputably betrayed  his  nationality. 

"  Merci,  monsieur,  j'en  ai  ici!  " 

The  poor  man  looked  disappointed.  Then  Katherine 
laughed,  finished  the  joke,  and  became  verbally  British. 


44  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

She  had  swallowed  a  few  mouthfuls  of  something  un- 
pleasant and  her  head  had  temporarily  ceased  its  revo- 
lutions. 

"  I  was  feeling  very  continental  just  now — something 
in  the  potage  brought  it  on,  I  suppose ! "  she  said  with 
that  easy  flippancy  which  comes  naturally  to  some 
women,  but  must  be  instantly  suppressed  with  others. 
The  wrong  woman  flippant  is  a  hideous  tragedy. 

The  man  smiled — the  kind,  tired  smile  of  one  who  has 
failed  consistently,  but  who  always  lives  in  hopes  that 
someone  else  may  succeed. 

"  You  have  come  to  play  ?  "  he  enquired,  putting  the 
usual  question. 

"  Yes,  I've  come  to  secure  motors  and  Paquin  gowns 
and  villas  and  bank  balances !  " 

"Ah— yes!" 

"Please  don't — ejaculations  like  that  depress  me! 
Have  you  come  to  play?  " 

The  man  nodded  his  unsleek  head. 

"  Yes,  I've  come  to  see  if  ten  pounds  will  get  me 
enough  to  buy  a  fortune  with!  Fancy  doing  that  at 
forty !  Sad,  isn't  it?  " 

"  But  how  do  you  mean  buy  a  fortune  ?  Make  it, 
I  suppose?  " 

"  No,  I  mean  buy  it.     '  Grey  Rubbers  ' !  " 

"  What  are  grey  rubbers  ?  "  enquired  Katherine  be- 
fore forcing  a  mouthful  of  some  fresh  unpleasantness 
down  her  throat. 

"  Shares — shares  in  the  Andalusian  Grey  Rubber 
Company.  Nobody  knows  much  about  them — they're 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  45 

one  pound  now — they'll  be  twenty  pound  in  a  month ! 
Three  thousand  of  those  would  mean  £60,000.  Sounds 
amusing,  doesn't  it?  Nobody  believes  it,  but  I  know. 
I'd  stake  my  last  pound  on  it,  if  I  had  a  first ! " 

Katherine  smiled  automatically.  She  was  thinking. 
Should  she  abandon  play  and  buy  "  Grey  Rubbers " 
with  the  £2,000  insurance  money?  Or  would  it  not  be 
better  to  make  the  £2,000  into  £8,000  by  means  of 
Grandfather  Laurence's  system,  then  keep  the  original 
£2,000  and  invest  the  £4,000  in  "Grey  Rubbers"— 
or,  take  the 

Katherine  seized  her  glass  of  lemonwater  and  drank 
every  drain  of  the  unpalatable  fluid.  Her  head  was 
feeling  too  heavy  again — as  if  the  hair  were  separate, 
and  was  rushing  round  as  the  earth  rushes  round  the 
sun! 

But  the  cold  lemonwater  put  the  hair  on  again.  She 
felt  better. 

Grey  Rubbers!  She  would  remember  that,  and  she 
would  remember  the  shabby  English  table  neighbour 
who  had  given  her  the  tip,  if — if 

But  of  course  even  Grandfather  Laurence's  scheme 
was  a  matter  of  "  if  "  ! 

Outside,  the  persistently  written-up  palms  and  sun- 
shine and  tideless  Mediterranean  were  all  the  English 
tourist  rightfully  expects  them  to  be;  and  inside,  ef- 
fective word-pictures  were  justified. 

The  heat,  and  hags,  and  millionaires;  the  demimotv- 
daines  and  gambling  duchesses ;  the  strident  croupiers 
making  real  the  "  Faites  vos  jeux,  monsieur"  and  "  Rien 


46  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

ne  va  plus  " — which  is  to  be  heard  with  such  persistent 
jocularity  at  suburban  roulette  parties  where  the 
plunging  players  pronounce  "  impasse  "  in  a  manner 
entirely  Croydon ! — the  "  clutching  claws,"  the  Russian 
princesses,  the  dark  jewelled  lady  who  is  quite  as  likely 
to  be  Otero  as  anybody  else,  the  "eager,  hungry  faces  " 
— they  were  all  there. 

But  the  red-haired  widow,  with  the  perfect  waist, 
was  just  a  faintly  novel  element. 

And  she  was  winning — always  watching  the  wheel, 
waiting,  reckoning,  staking  maximums,  and  winning. 

Once  or  twice  one  of  the  six  unprotected  numbers 
would  turn  up — but  not  often.  The  widow  seemed  to 
have  caught  the  spirit  of  the  wheel.  It  was  as  if  the 
click  of  the  little  balls — not  an  iron  pill  here ! — warned 
and  whispered  to  her  alone. 

Nothing  disturbed  her  attention — which,  as  any  ex- 
perienced roulette  player  knows,  is  the  greatest  insur- 
ance against  loss  the  gambler  holds. 

The  magnetism  of  the  wheel  seemed  to  reach  the 
woman,  and  the  magnetism  of  the  woman  to  reach  the 
wheel. 

Whispered  comments  concerning  her  good  fortune, 
the  scuffle  between  a  demi-mondaine  and  a  church- 
warden's wife  as  to  the  possession  of  a  heap  of  two-franc 
pieces,  the  clatter  of  over-turned  coins  and  plaques  fall- 
ing on  polished  pitch  pine  floor — none  of  these  for  one 
second  diverted  her  set,  unswervable  attention. 

Sometimes  it  seemed  that  she  herself  was  a  wheel, 
that  her  head  was  spinning  round  with  the  ball,  that  she 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  47 

was  part  of  the  game — all  forms  of  temporary  insanity 
caused  by  desperate  anxiety  and  desperate  excitement. 

But  for  all  that,  her  bursting  brain  remained  clear — 
almost  painfully  clear,  like  the  outlines  of  the  Esterels 
before  a  Southern  storm — concerning  the  routine  of 
Grandfather  Laurence's  scheme.  It  was  more  a  scheme 
than  an  actual  system. 

Neuf!  Rouge,  impair  et  manque!"  Right  again — 
the  widow  had  staked  maximums  on  the  second  six  num- 
bers of  the  premiere  douzaine  and  half  maximums  on  the 
milieu  and  dernier e  douzaine. 

The  two  half  maximums  lost,  and  the  whole  maximum 
received  five  times  its  stake — making  the  clear  gain  of 
6,000  francs. 

"  Vingt!  noir,  pair  et  passe!  "  Again !  The  widow 
had  only  left  unprotected  numbers  one  to  six. 

"  Sept — rouge,  impair  et  manque"  Still  one  to  six 
unprotected. 

Katherine  waited,  missed  a  spin,  then  transferred  her 
six  uncovered  numbers  to  13,  14,  15,  16,  17,  18. 

Whir-r-r-r — click! 

"  Trois,  rouge,  impair  et  manque!  "  Just  in  the  nick 
of  time  she  had  changed !  The  spirit  of  the  wheel  hadn't 
failed  to  keep  in  touch  with  her  intuitions. 

Six  more  times  "  la  veuve  rouge  " — as  a  Belgian  rogue 
named  her  in  whispers  to  a  French  courtesan — staked 
and  won.  Then,  without  another  glance  at  the  tables, 
she  rose  from  her  seat  and  glided  out  of  the  room. 

She  couldn't  play  any  more — her  nerve  had  given  way 
— her  head — her  head — spinning — spinning 


48  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  Mrs.  Orlitson !  " 

A  voice  reached  her  ears  above  the  carrying  strains 
of  the  Casino  band. 

It  was  the  dinner-table  neighbour — the  "Grey  Rub- 
bers "  man — he  had  an  honest  face. 

"  I've  won,  I've  won,"  panted  Katherine.  "  Come 
with  me — count  how  much.  I — I  can't  count !  " 

Esmond  Pryce,  besides  looking  an  honest  man,  hap- 
pened to  be  one. 

"  Come  outside — come  now,"  he  answered. 

Katherine  followed.  The  Southern  night  was  light — 
she  never  realised  if  it  was  moon  or  electricity — 
there  was  a  secluded  seat  backed  by  the  perpetual 
palms. 

Crish — crish — crish — crish — continued  the  incessant 
rustle  of  100  and  1,000  franc  notes — it  seemed  to 
Katherine  the  noise  would  never  cease — the  clink — clink 
— clink — clink. 

Eternal  gold — no  limit — no  end. 

At  last  the  sounds  ceased,  and  the  honest  dinner- 
table  neighbour  was  cramming  notes  and  coins  into  a 
black  satin  bag. 

"  How  much  have  I  won  ?  " 

"122,000  francs — nearly  £5,000  in  English  money— 
and  if  you  buy  '  Grey  Rubbers  ' " 

"  I'll  buy  them — but  I  must  get  to  England.  I  am 
going  to  be  ill — to  be  very  ill — but  I  mustn't  be  ill  till 
I  reach  England.  You'll  help  me?  It  shall  be  a  lib- 
eral arrangement "  Her  light  grey  eyes  and  voice 

were  both  wild  and  blurred. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  49 

"  Yes,  I'll  help  you  gladly,"  answered  the  honest  din- 
ner-table neighbour. 

"  Thank  you,"  muttered  '  la  veuve  rouge.' 

And  they  hurried  forward  through  the  South-scented 
night. 

England — England — a  country  that  should  blaze 
with  hope  fulfilled ! 


CHAPTER   VI 

SOMEWHEEE  in  Sussex — it  doesn't  exactly  matter 
where,  except  that  it  was  near  enough  to  the  sea  for  a 
grey-blue  line  to  be  visible  above  the  swelling  breasts 
of  the  downs — there  stood  a  chicken  farm. 

It  wasn't  a  large  chicken  farm,  although  three  hun- 
dred or  so  fowls  of  every  age  and  breed  seemed  to  give 
the  place  a  sufficiently  feathery  aspect,  but  as  vegetables 
were  produced,  and  several  absorbent  pigs  lodged  in 
several  odorous  styles,  Upper  Deerbuck  Farm  could 
claim  for  itself  a  certain  amount  of  agricultural  import- 
ance. 

One  afternoon  in  late  August,  when  the  sun  had 
reached  its  zenith  and  was  preparing  to  decline 
in  a  haze  of  amber  glory,  the  chickens  became  clam- 
orous. 

They  knew  their  supper  was  late.  Certain  internal 
promptings  told  them  that  the  great  pail  of  yellow  maize 
was  nearly  ten  minutes  behind  time  in  making  its  ap- 
pearance, and  that  the  dry  tin  tanks  ought  to  be  filled 
with  water. 

"  Clu-uck,  clu-uck ! "  called  the  white  Leghorns  in 
protesting  chorus,  which  was  echoed  by  outraged  Buff 
Orpingtons. 

A  red  Sussex  rooster,  evidently  considering  that  by 

so 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  51 

right  of  sex  he  was  entitled  to  display  more  than  mild 
annoyance  at  this  postponement  of  a  meal,  flew  onto  the 
roof  of  an  outhouse  and  proclaimed  his  indignation 
with  greedy  masculine  vehemence. 

A  bristling  Houdan  cockerel  agreed  with  him.  The 
solo  became  a  duet — the  chorus  of  hens  interpolated, 
till 

"  Whew-w-w!  " 

It  was  a  whistle,  clear,  strong  and  musical — a 
whistle  that  could  not  proceed  from  the  lips  of  a  man — 
and  as  this,  their  supper  gong,  sounded,  fowls  and  ducks 
rushed  from  every  imaginable  creek  and  crevice. 

They  flew  down  from  trees,  they  abandoned  unhatched 
progeny  that  would  in  a  hour's  time  be  sold  at  three 
halfpence  apiece,  they  vacated  a  commodious  dung 
heap,  they  scuttled  through  the  long  grasses  of  an  ad- 
joining meadow — one  pas  fee  Minorca  making  use  of 
her  bandy  legs  and  ragged  wings  at  the  same  time. 

Feathered  life  and  friendly  strife  seemed  everywhere, 
till  it  was  finally  concentrated  on  one  spot — the 
exact  spot  where  a  tall  girl  stood  holding  a  pail  of 
maize. 

"  My  apologies  for  this  unpunctuality,"  she  said, 
addressing  the  red  Sussex  rooster,  whose  beak  had  been 
already  dipped  ten  consecutive  times  over  the  rim  of  the 
pail. 

The  bird  accepted  her  apology — and  some  more  maize 
— after  which  Honora  Vayne  plunged  one  long  white 
hand  into  the  amber  seed  and  showered  all  the  gobbling, 
greedy  birds  with  a  deluge  of  supper. 


52  THE    WILD    WIDOW 

Yes,  Honora  Vayne's  hand  was  long  and  white — just 
exactly  what  a  hand  belonging  to  the  proprietress  of  s. 
Sussex  chicken  farm  ought  not  to  have  been. 

By  right  of  literary  precedent  that  hand  should  have 
been  plump,  a  very  little  coarse  and  freckled — just  as 
her  hair,  should  have  been  gilded  with  "  glints  of  the 
sun,"  her  face  pink  and  white — undoubtedly  comparable 
to  apple  blossom — her  eyes  en  piece  with  the  heavens, 
and  her  figure  plump  and  bonny. 

But  in  her  personal  appearance  Honora  Vayne  was 
very  much  of  a  failure,  so  far  as  the  picturesque  unities 
of  a  chicken  farm  were  observed. 

Her  hair  was  black,  abundant,  and  drifted  into  stray- 
ing Empire  curls  without  any  effort;  her  complexion 
wasn't  by  any  means  a  triumph,  except  on  the  occasion 
of  a  rare  blush — it  was  glorious  then — her  mouth  was 
red,  and  parted  as  though  unexpressed  primeval  long- 
ings were  trembling  on  both  lips;  and  her  eyes — well 
they  were  wonderful,  and  utterly  out  of  place  on  a  Sus- 
sex chicken  farm.  Their  colour?  Hard  to  say.  Every 
colour  except  brown  or  blue — very  frequently  they  were 
black. 

Honora  Vayne  was  young,  as  youth  is  mercifully 
reckoned  in  these  days  of  forty-year-old  "boy  poli- 
ticians " — that  is  to  say  her  twenty-third  birthday 
wasn't  passed — and  without  any  effort  or  intention  she 
always  gave  the  impression  of  being  a  woman  who 
waited. 

Her  eyes  held  the  expression  of  one  watching  down 
a  long  white  road,  waiting  for  the  sound  of  coming 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  53 

horses'  hoofs — for  the  crush  of  an  embrace — for  the 
fulfilment  of  existence ! 

But,  so  far,  she  held  no  knowledge  of  what,  or  for 
whom,  she  was  waiting. 

That  might  come — later. 

When  the  last  grain  of  maize  was  apportioned,  Ho- 
nora  called  out  in  a  voice  that,  like  her  appearance,  was 
unexpected. 

"  Charlie,  bring  the  water !  " 

Charlie — a  ten-year-old  youth  belonging  to  the  root- 
veg  table  order  of  human  beings— "-turned  the  corner 
of  the  white  farmhouse  staggering  beneath  the  weight 
of  a  huge  can. 

Honora  helped  him  carry  the  can,  and  between  them 
they  filled  the  dozen  or  so  small  tanks  and  tins  placed 
in  various  positions  which  the  fowls  found  most  con- 
venient. 

Three  hundred  beaks  touched  the  crystal  coldness 
of  the  water,  and  as  the  red  Sussex  rooster  threw  back 
his  head  and  uttered  a  gurgle  of  real  relish,  Honora 
laughed. 

He  reminded  her  of  a  priest  who  had  once  taken  her 
in  to  dinner  at  a  house  where  the  Pommery  was  superb. 

From  the  very  first  she  had  regarded  that  rooster 
as  a  man  of  the  world.  His  management  of  the  harem 
was  essentially  diplomatic. 

When  Charlie  had  dragged  back  the  huge  can  Honora 
entered  the  long,  low  white  house  and  fetched  a  basket. 
Egg-collecting  time  was  here. 

From  nest  to  nest  she  went,  gently  lifting  the  white, 


54  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

cream,  salmon,  pink,  and  delicately-brown  globes  from 
beds  of  fragrant  hay. 

Most  of  the  hens  had  done  their  duty  to  the  ornitho- 
logical Empire,  but  one  small  wooden  box  was  empty. 

Honora  turned  reproachfully  to  a  plump  Silver 
Wyandotte  who,  looking  like  a  chinchilla  muff,  was 
pecking  at  a  piece  of  potato  peeling  with  an  air  of  cer- 
tain embarrassment. 

"You've  been  lazy,  haven't  you,  Ophelia?  So  little 
is  expected  of  you — you  might  at  least  have  done  this 
for  me.  It  isn't  much  to  ask!  Remember,  you  and  I 
do  not  belong  to  the  leisured  classes — we  each  have  our 
living  to  earn.  Don't  be  lazy  again,  Ophelia ! " 

The  chinchilla  muff  waddled  off  in  a  depressed  man- 
ner. There  was  undoubted  justice  in  her  owner's  re- 
proach. 

Honora  entered  another  shed  where  a  large  glossy 
black  Leghorn  hen  was  sitting  humped  up  in  her  nest, 
sullen  with  a  desire  for  wrongly-seasoned  motherhood, 
which  she  knew  from  harrowing  daily  experience  would 
not  be  permitted. 

Honora  hesitated  a  second,  then  breathing  a  faint 
sigh  of  regret,  slid  one  hand  under  the  warm  black 
breast  of  the  fowl,  who  bristled  all  her  feathers  and 
uttered  the  usual  cackling  remonstrance. 

The  egg  was  there.  And  instead  of  being  allowed  to 
remain  and  to  arouse  a  black  Leghorn's  most  womanly 
instincts,  it  would  be  sold  for  three-halfpence! 

Honora  bent  tenderly  over  the  fowl,  till  black  curls 
and  black  feathers  almost  intermingled. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  55 

"  I'm  sorry,  Juliet,  very  sorry,"  she  murmured.  "  I 
would  let  you  have  your  happiness,  dear,  only  Tryke 
says  no  good  comes  o'  blackberry  chicks.  Wait  until 
the  spring,  Juliet — it  won't  be  long — and  then  your  sons 
and  daughters  shall  grow  up  round  you  and  stay  with 
you  until " 

Honora  left  the  sentence  unfinished.  She  couldn't 
tell  Juliet  that  her  future  progeny  should  remain  until 
trussing  time  arrived ! — for  the  death  of  each  bird  caused 
positive  physical  anguish  to  this  proprietress  of  Upper 
Deerbuck  Chicken  Farm. 

Only  born,  hatched,  fed,  reared,  fattened — to  die! 

Every  morning,  when  at  misty  daybreak  Tryke 
turned  out  into  the  sweet-smelling  world  to  end  the 
complete  summer  joy  of  half  a  dozen  heedless,  happy 
creatures,  Honora  buried  her  head  beneath  the  bed- 
clothes and  prayed — prayed  for  the  souls  of  her  regu- 
lar customers'  dinners ! 

It  had  to  be  done,  it  must  be  done. 

She  had  bought  the  farm  in  order  to  make  a  living. 
Tryke,  Mary  Tryke,  and  Charlie  Tryke  would  probably 
resign  their  posts  if  the  normal  routine  of  things  were 
not  carried  out;  but  yet  not  one  preening,  strutting, 
waddling  Leghorn  became  a  mute,  inert  feathered  mass 
without  Honora  Vayne's  pillow  being  wet  with  tears. 

But  this  evening  there  was  no  sadness.  Life  was, 
for  the  time  being,  uninterrupted  by  the  doom  of  man's 
appetite. 

When  Honora  had  been  the  round  of  the  nests  and 
collected  one  egg  from  the  spout  of  a  rain-pipe — this 


56  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

was  Portia's  invariable  lying-in  abode — another  from 
the  vegetable  marrow  beds,  and  others  from  the  shelter 
of  an  old  coal-scuttle,  from  a  deserted  beehive,  from 
the  exact  centre  of  a  bare,  empty  pigstye,  and  various 
similar  spots  which  eccentrically-minded  hens  selected 
for  the  scenes  of  their  domestic  rites,  she  entered  the 
house. 

"Mary!" 

A  buxom  woman  appeared,  took  the  eggs — which  it 
was  now  her  duty  to  sort  and  pack  before  Charlie  went 
on  his  evening  rounds  of  delivery — and  then  Honora 
turned  into  the  parlour  where  tea  was  laid  for  one — 
tea,  cream,  giant  plums,  primose-tinted  cake — a  succu- 
lent, appetising  meal — but  always  for  one! 

Honora  threw  herself  on  the  shabby  sofa  covered  in 
American  cloth,  and  closed  her  eyes. 

She  was  feeling  almost  dangerously  lonely  to-day — 
that  sort  of  loneliness  which  engenders  morbid  thoughts 
and  is  morally  unhealthy. 

For  one  whole  year  she  had  been  mistress  of  Upper 
Deerbuck  Chicken  Farm,  during  which  time  she  hadn't 
exchanged  five  hundred  words  with  anyone  who  wasn't 
a  labourer,  a  thirsty  cyclist,  or  a  purveyor  of  dairy  pro- 
duce, and  now  suddenly — to-day — she  felt  it  was  im- 
possible to  continue  without  companionship. 

She  had  thought  her  own  thoughts  so  often  till  they 
seemed  getting  threadbare  and  senseless ;  she  had  read 
books,  and  books,  and  books,  but  perpetual  reading 
without  interchange  of  views  and  argument  becomes 
mentally  stultifying. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  57 

Humanity  may  have  a  profound  contempt  for  hu- 
manity, but  the  mutual  need  is  there  nevertheless. 

Honora  rose  and  suddenly  became  alert  as  she  had 
been  indolent  a  moment  ago. 

Where  was  the  daily  paper? — that  daily' paper  with 
its  marvellous  advertisement  pages  which  have  set 
in  train  the  fulfilment  of  a  hundred  thousand  des- 
tinies. 

Honora  found  it  on  the  floor — where  she  had  left  it — 
and  spread  out  its  sheets  on  the  end  of  the  table  where 
tea  was  not  laid. 

Quite  possibly  there  might  be  some  advertisement 
which  she  could  answer — some  individual  might  seek 
a  temporary  rural  resting  place? 

Honora  ran  a  long  white  finger — such  an  unsuitable 
finger  for  a  Sussex  Chicken  Farmeress — down  the 
columns,  and  halted  when  she  came  to  the  section  headed, 
"  Seaside  and  Country  Board  and  Residence." 

"  A  German  gentlemen,  wife,  and  seven  children  de- 
sire a  quiet  holiday  retreat."  No,  Honora's  desire  for 
companionship  wasn't  unlimited.  "  A  young  married 
couple  wish  to  spend  September  in  a  restful  country 
home."  No — not  a  young  married  couple  absorbed  with 
themselves,  possibly  their  own  happiness,  possibly  their 
own  love!  They  would  only  increase  Honora's  loneli- 
ness !  "  A  widow — young,  recently  recovered  from  se- 
vere illness — desires  to  spend  the  months  of  her  retire- 
ment in  a  picturesque  country  farm.  Genuine  country, 
chickens,  and  peace  essential.  Sunsets.  Pigs  preferred. 
—Apply,  XX,  Box  1801,  etc." 


58  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

Honora  smiled,  clapped  her  hands,  and  looked 
nineteen. 

Nothing  would  be  better  if  she  could  get  the  widow, 
and  if  the  widow  fitted  in  with  her  advertisement.  There 
was  such  a  touch  of  whimsicality  and  humour  about 
the  "  peace,  sunsets,  and  pigs." 

Already  Honora  felt  in  sympathy  with  "  XX,"  and 
the  advertisement  should  be  answered  at  once. 

Honora  uncapped  her  stylo  pen  and  wrote : 


"  Sussex. 

"  Dear  Madam."  (This  commencement  was  unin- 
spiringly  orthodox,  but  it  couldn't  be  helped.)  "  I  am 
absolutely  sure  that  I  can  fill  every  requirement  stated 
in  your  advertisement.  I  am  the  owner  of  this  Chicken 
Farm  (chickens  guaranteed,  you  see!)  and  should  be 
glad  to  receive  a  paying  guest.  The  country  here  is 
quite  real,  there  are  sunsets — every  evening  more  or  less 
— and  six  styes,  containing  ten  perfectly  genuine  pigs. 
I  should  think  £2  2s.  or  £3  8s.  a  week  should  be  suitable 
in  the  way  of  terms. 

"  Trusting  to  receive  a  reply, 

"  Yours  truly, 
"HONORA  VAYNE  (Miss). 
"  P.S. — Our  nearest  station  is  Transley." 

Of  course  the  letter  wasn't  businesslike,  but  then 
neither  was  the  advertisement,  and  Honora  insensibly 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  59 

felt  that  a  woman  who  could  make  a  printed  demand 
for  "  genuine  country,  sunsets,  peace,  and  pigs  "  would 
appreciate  an  equally  spontaneous  reply. 

Anyhow,  what  had  been  written  should  be  sent,  and 
by  the  second  post  to-morrow  "  XX  "  should  learn  all 
the  attractions  of  Upper  Deerbuck  Farm. 

Two  days  passed  without  reply,  but  on  the  morning 
of  the  third  a  telegraph  boy  on  a  scarlet  bicycle  wheeled 
along  the  rutted  road  leading  to  the  house. 

He  dismounted  and  called  out  "  Vayne "  through 
the  open  door. 

A  tall  young  woman,  dressed  in  blue  zephyr,  emerged 
from  the  parlour,  took  and  opened  the  orange  envelope. 

"  Any  answer,  miss?  " 

"  No — no  answer — go  round  to  the  side  and  ask  for 
a  glass  of  milk." 

"  Thank  you,  miss !  " 

"Arriving  this  afternoon,  3.60,  Transley  Station. 
Send  cart  to  meet  me — not  fly.  Appreciate  assurances 
re  sunseti  and  pigs.  Terms  £2  12s.  6d. — KATHERINE 
OELITSON." 

Such  was  the  response  to  Honora's  unconventional 
letter,  and  thus  two  strange  women  were  to  be  drawn 
into  each  other's  lives. 


CHAPTER  VH 

HONORA  had  been  immensely  busy  ever  since  the  re- 
ceipt of  Katherine  Orlitson's  wire,  but  now  everything 
was  ready,  and  in  half  an  hour  the  paying  guest  would 
arrive. 

The  long  bedroom  above  the  parlour  had  been  pre- 
pared for  Mrs.  Orlitson,  and  there  was  a  tiny  sitting- 
room  on  the  same  floor  which  could  be  placed  at  her 
disposal — for  though  Honora  had  taken  this  step  with 
a  view  to  securing  human  companionship,  she  fully  in- 
tended that  this  "  young  widow "  should  be  able  to 
revel  in  the  tearful  joys  of  solitude  whenever  she  so 
desired. 

As  directed,  Honora  had  sent  a  cart — the  jolting, 
springless  conveyance  in  which  Tryke  fetched  loads  of 
hay — to  the  station,  and  in  appreciation  of  Mrs.  Orlit- 
son's evident  desire  for  a  completely  rural  scheme  of 
existence,  she  had  forbidden  Tryke  to  change  his  earth- 
stained  corduroy  trousers  and  linen  coat  for  a  more 
"  Sunday  "  attire. 

The  new  arrival  was  to  be  met  by  a  genuine  son  of 
the  soil,  was  to  sit  on  a  wooden  bench,  and  to  be  jolted 
home  in  the  most  rickety  cart  to  be  found  within  twenty 
miles  of  Transley. 

Just  as  they  were  starting  Honora  had,  by  way  of 
inspiration,  uprooted  a  mangel-wurzel  and  thrown  it 

60 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  61 

carelessly  in  one  corner  of  the  cart.  She  felt  somehow 
this  would  be  a  sympathetic  touch! 

When  the  last  rattle  of  the  departing  cart  had  died 
away,  Honora  hurried  up  to  her  own  bedroom  and  in- 
spected herself  in  the  large  old-fashioned  dressing- 
table  glass. 

She  was  wearing  a  rather  washed-out  blue  zephyr 
frock  made  with  full  sleeves  gathered  into  wristbands, 
a  plain  tucked  skirt,  and  loose  blouse  bodice. 

Should  this  be  changed  for  more  orthodox  afternoon 
attire  ? — for  the  flowered  silk  up  in  the  wardrobe  which, 
though  a  year  behind  the  fashions  looked  decorous 
and  becoming? 

Honora's  hesitation  was  only  momentary.  She  quickly 
realised  that  a  woman  who  wanted  genuine  country,  sun- 
sets, and  pigs,  would  deeply  resent  any  attire  more 
decorative  than  that  she  was  now  wearing.  In  fact 
a  stain  of  crushed  flowers  or  crushed  grass  decorating 
the  skirt  might  be  very  advisable. 

And  should  Mrs.  Orlitson  be  received  in  the  parlour, 
or  would  an  effective  tableau,  composed  of  chickens, 
a  yard  dog,  a  pail  of  maize,  and  a  cotton-f rocked  girl, 
form  a  satisfactory  first  impression? 

Honora  decided  it  would  and  hurried  downstairs,  out 
of  the  low,  dark  hall  into  the  afternoon  sunshine. 

It  was  now  a  quarter-past  four,  and  the  train  had 
got  into  Transley  at  3.50,  therefore  Mrs.  Orlitson  was 
due  to  arrive  any  moment. 

Honora  listened. 

Yes — the  sound  of  heavy  cartwheels. 


62  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

Honora  dashed  into  the  storing  shed,  filled  a  pall 
with  wheat  and  maize,  and  whistled. 

"  Whew-w-w!  " 

In  battalions  they  came,  grateful  that  to-day  their 
supper  wasn't  late. 

The  picture  was  complete — a  low  white  cottage-house, 
red  and  thatched-roofed  sheds,  a  girl  in  a  rumpley  cot- 
ton frock,  three  hundred  fowls,  and  a  pink  and  gold 
sky,  hazy  like  youth's  dreams;  to  the  right,  beds  of 
buxom  cabbages,  of  onions,  unready  marrows,  huge 
pickling  cabbages  (reminding  one  of  great  purple  roses 
for  a  giant's  buttonhole)  ;  to  the  left,  a  meadow,  tree- 
shaded  in  places — beyond,  wheatfields — beyond  those, 
green  bosoms  of  the  hills — and  beyond,  the  steel-blue 
line  of  distant  sea. 

The  cart  jolted  down  the  rutted  entrance  road,  and 
Katherine  Orlitson  saw  it  all,  while  across  a  vista  of 
fluttering  feathers,  Honora  saw  a  black-gowned  figure 
standing  up  in  the  cart,  the  glow  of  red  hair,  and  the 
outline  of  a  perfect  waist  silhouetted  against  the  sky. 

The  cart  stopped.  For  a  second  neither  picture  was 
disturbed,  as  though  both  women  were  anxious  to  con- 
tinue the  poignant  first  impression  which  each  was 
making  on  the  other,  then 

"  Cock-a-doodle-do-o-o-o-o-O ! " 

The  red  Sussex  rooster  had  been  the  first  to  welcome 
Katherine  Orlitson  to  Upper  Deerbuck  Farm. 

"  Really  !  Then  cook-a-doodle-do-o-o-o-o-O !  "  cried 
Mrs.  Orlitson.  And  from  that  instant  she  was  at  home 
with  Honora  Vayne. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  63 

They  both  laughed — laughs  of  light-hearted,  expect- 
ant amusement  that  were  excellent  to  hear — and  Kath- 
erine  jumped  to  the  ground  without  tearing  a  single 
frill  of  the  black  silk  petticoat  so  lavishly  displayed  when 
she  held  up  her  faultlessly  cut  skirt.  Tryke  realised 
his  wife's  eyes  were  upon  him,  and  looked  obtrusively  the 
other  way. 

"  How  lovely,  how  perfect,  how  purifying  every- 
thing is  here ! "  exclaimed  Katherine  with  all  a  town 
woman's  incurable  gush — gush,  however,  which  was  in- 
finitely more  sincere  than  uncomprehending  middle-class 
people  might  imagine.  "  I  feel  sort  of  purified  and 
resurrected — the  sensation  began  to  steal  over  me  as 
we  jerked  along  in  that  divine  cart  with  the  beetroot 
or  artichoke  lying  in  the  corner,  but  now  it's  complete. 
Miss  Vayne — you  are  Miss  Vayne,  of  course?  I'm  so 
glad! — Upper  Deerbuck  Farm  is  going  to  rejuvenate 
me  and  prevent  me  from  ever  feeling  thirty ! " 

Honora  listened  with  a  sense  of  fascinated  enjoy- 
ment. 

For  a  year  now  she  had  only  heard  the  slow,  heavy 
speech  of  provincial  rustics,  and  this  London  woman's 
rush  of  ready,  silly,  amusing,  exaggerated,  flippant 
words  was  refreshing  and  exhilarating  as  the  dipso- 
maniac's first  drink  after  being  discharged  as  cured 
from  an  inebriate's  home. 

She  knew  now  what  had  been  weighing  her  down,  op- 
pressing her  more  and  more  each  day — it  was  the  need 
of  flippancy  and  gay  exaggeration,  which  Mrs.  Orlit- 
son's  had  already  begun  to  fill. 


64  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  I  am  so  very  glad  to  see  you,  and  I'm  glad  you 
noticed  the  beetroot  in  the  cart — it  happened  to  be  a 
mangel-wurzel,  by-the-by,  and  I  put  it  there  on  purpose 
— but  I'm  so  glad  you  noticed  it !  "  she  said. 

Katherine  Orlitson  stuck  out  her  thin  chin  and  bub- 
bled with  laughter. 

This  responsive  reply — taking  up  her  own  tack, 
spoken  in  her  own  vein — was  delightful. 

"  Of  course  I  knew  it  was  a  mangel-wurzel,  and  those 
are  hens,  and  the  person  with  the  fashionable  headgear 
is  a  cock,  and  that's  a — a — dog,  and  the  square,  white, 
waddling  things  are  ducks!  I  know  all  about  it,  Miss 
Vayne,  so  don't  laugh  at  any  supposed  cockney  ignor- 
ance I  may  possess  !  " 

Honora  smiled  delightfully  and  then  suggested 
tea. 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Orlitson,"  she  said  with  a  touch  of  busi- 
ness in  her  voice  that  had  been  acquired  by  a  year's  bar- 
gaining with  customers  who  were  always  ready  to  take 
advantage  of  "  'Er  up  at  DeerbucJc,"  "  I  have  ar- 
ranged a  private  sitting-room  for  you  so  that  you  can 
have  your  meals " 

But  with  a  shrill  cry  and  dramatic  gesture  Katherine 
interrupted. 

"  Don't,  please,  don't.  Won't  you  eat  with  your 
P.  G. ?  Please  do;  my  table  habits  are  beautiful.  I 
shan't  annoy  you  in  the  least — for  Heaven's  sake  don'c 
banish  me  now.  I  absolutely  feel  and  see  we  shall  have 
such  a  lot  to  talk  about  to  each  other  that  it'll  be  a  race 
•vKo  gets  in  most  words ! " 

.rfonora  flushed  with  pleasure,  and  it  was  one  of  those 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  65 

brief  moments  when  her  complexion  was  a  bewildering 
success. 

"  It's  so  nice  of  you.  I  was  afraid  perhaps  you'd 
want  solitude,"  she  murmured  as  they  entered  the  cool, 
shady  house. 

"  So  I  should  if — if — well,  if  you'd  been  what  I  felt 
sure  you  couldn't  be  by  your  letter!  But  as  it  is — no 
solitude  for  me,  my  dear!"  concluded  Mrs.  Orlitson 
with  a  freedom  and  ease  that  had  been  formerly  acquired 
in  Mr.  L.  Lewis  Verschoyle's  A  Company. 

The  function  of  tea  lasted  half  an  hour,  and  by  the 
time  it  was  concluded  Katherine  Orlitson  and  Honora 
Vayne  were  intimates. 

They  partially  understood  each  other,  and  were  al- 
ready mutually  longing  to  exchange  views  on  those 
various  emotional  subjects  which  form  the  themes  of 
most  absorbing  feminine  confidences — for  a  certain 
electric  type  of  womanhood  is  as  rapid  in  forming  its 
friendship  as  commencing  its  amours. 

And  the  electric  woman  is  not  one  whit  less  enduring 
than  she  who  fights  shy  of  Christian  names  at  the  end 
of  five  years.  Rapidity  is  her  keynote,  and  rapidity 
very  rarely  leads  astray,  for  her  intuitions  are  so  ac- 
curate and  her  views  so  definite  that  any  permanent 
change  of  sentiment  need  never  be  expected. 

"  Now,  I  never  sent  any  references,  so  you'd  like 
to  hear  all  about  me,  wouldn't  you?"  said  Katherine 
when  she  had  been  conducted  to  her  fresh-smelling, 
chintz-hung  bedroom. 

"  I  should  be  awfully  interested  to  hear  whatever 
you  feel  inclined  to  tell,"  answered  Honora. 


66  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"Then  I'll  tell  my  history  straight  off  in  tabloid 
form.  My  age  is  twenty-nine — next  year  it  will  be 
twenty-eight.  I  was  born  of  quite  pleasing  parents — 
a  red-haired  Colonel,  who  married  the  youngest  daugh- 
ter of  somebody  who  was  cousin  to  a  baronet.  They 
were  immensely  poor,  and  before  dying  planted  me  as 
pupil  teacher  in  a  sort  of  soul-prison  known  as  an 
academy  for  young  ladies.  At  twenty  I  ran  away  to 
go  on  the  stage.  For  five  years  I  toured,  then  I  ran 
away  from  that  to  marry  an  Englishman  named  Roger 
Orlitson,  whom  I  had  met  abroad.  We  had  a  delight- 
ful roaming  honeymoon  lasting  over  three  years,  at  the 
end  of  which  time  all  our  money  was  spent,  and,  as  my 
poor  husband  never  made  a  hobby  of  work  or  earning 
an  income,  we  were  forced  to  retrench.  Lord!  how  I 
hate  retrenching ! "  Here  the  thin  shoulders  shuddered 
beneath  their  black  draperies  of  grief.  "  With  us  it 
meant  Seedlingditch — the  very  final  spot  that  could 
ever  have  been  created ! — A  three-roomed  cottage,  abso- 
lute isolation,  and  me — Me — as  maid-of-all-work  wash- 
ing dishes !  It  was  terrible,  my  dear !  But  the  sad  re- 
lease soon  came.  Before  we  had  been  at  Seedlingditch 
a  fortnight  my  husband  died  suddenly — and  th — that 
ended  the  retrenchment ! " 

Honora  looked  at  the  speaker  with  a  query  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Ah ! — yes — the  money !  You're  wondering  why  I'm 
not  practically  f oodless  and  clotheless,  aren't  you  ?  Well, 
I  should  have  been,  only  long  ago — when  we  were  honey- 
mooning at  Cairo — an  eccentric  millionaire  person  of 


THE     WILD    WIDOW  67 

the  h-less  variety  nearly  fell  down  an  elevator  shaft. 
Roger — my  husband — averted  the  ugly  tragedy,  and  by 
way  of  reward  the  millionaire  insured  his  (Roger's) 
life  for  me — for  £2,000,  and  paid  four  years'  premium 
in  advance.  Poor  sort  of  game  for  Roger,  wasn't  it? 
But  old  Van  Bolorst  was  a  chivalrous  person  who  per- 
sistently asserted  that  *  it  was  the  womenfolk  what  mat- 
tered.' Therefore  when  last  April  th — the  terrible  thing 
happened,  I  was  left  with  £2,000.  If  it  hadn't  been 
for  that — ugh!  Possibilities  aren't  pretty  to  think 
about!" 

"  But  surely,  Mrs.  Orlitson,  you  won't  just  live  on 
your  capital  till  it's  gone  ?  "  cried  Honora,  whose  ac- 
quired practical  common  sense  couldn't  help  asserting 
itself. 

*'  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do — yet.  But  I'll  tell  you 
what  I  did.  I  went  to  Monte  Carlo — played  a  sort  of 
little  elusive,  fascinating,  unsound  roulette  system  and 
added  £5,000  to  the  £2,000,  then  travelled  night  and 
day  to  reach  England  in  time  to  comfortably  enjoy 
brain  fever  in  my  own  native  land.  I  was  ill  from  April 
till — well,  I'm  still  a  wreck,  and  I  want  to  stay  here 
till  next  April — till  my  first  year  of  mourning  is  over — 
if  you'll  have  me.  For  I  must  get  strong,  splendidly 
strong  to  recommence  life  just  in  the  way  I've  always 
wanted  to  live  it!  That  £5,000,  Miss  Vayne,  is  going 
to  do  wonderful  things — it  gets  more  valuable  every 
day — and  one  day  soon — but  I'll  tell  you  all  about  that 
when  it  happens!  That's  my  story  given  with  the  ill- 
bred  candour  and  lack  of  concealment  that  used  to  so 


68  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

terribly  annoy  my  poor  husband.  I  can't  help  being 
candid — wish  to  goodness  I  could." 

"  Oh,  don't  wish  that,"  replied  Honora  with  sudden 
earnestness.  "  It's  a  luxury  to  be  candid — to  be  able 
to  be  candid  and — then  you  have  no  relations  ?  "  She 
broke  off  abruptly  in  a  manner  suggestive  of  sudden 
stoppering  of  an  open  bottle. 

"  Yes — somewhere  I  have  a  brother — a  large  brother 
who  went  abroad — when  I  was  still  at  the  school.  We've 
corresponded  very  intermittently,  and  really  I  don't 
know  anything  about  him  except  that  he  meant  to  make 
money.  Perhaps  he's  done  so  by  now — I  don't  know ! 
I  sent  him  a  paper  containing  the  notice  of  poor  Roger's 
death,  but  never  received  any  reply.  I  expect  he  im- 
agined I  should  be  hard  up — it's  wonderful  what  bad 
correspondents  people  become  when  they  imagine  you're 
going  to  be  hard  up !  " 

"  In  my  opinion  hardupness  is  a  crime  that  should  be 
concealed  until  the  very  last  moment.  The  world  will 
forgive  anything  but  that,  and  it's  best  to  keep  on  good 
terms  with  the  world  as  long  as  possible,"  responded 
Honora,  who  was  moving  backward  towards  the  door 
with  a  view  to  leaving  the  "  P.  G."  in  undisturbed  pos- 
session of  her  own  room. 

"  You  don't  know  anything  about  hardupness,  with 
you  fat  fowls  and  potatoes  and  dear  cottage  and  obvious 
prosperity.  I  should  think  you  couldn't  understand 
anything  except  happiness ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Orlitson 
heedlessly  and  impulsively.  But  despite  the  impulsive 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  69 

heedlessness,  her  light  grey  eyes  flashed  one  v«ry  pene- 
trating glance  in  the  direction  of  Honora's  face. 

The  owner  of  three  hundred  fowls  turned  away  and 
laughed — but  not  before  one  of  those  brilliant,  beautiful 
flushes  had  been  momentarily  visible. 

"  Happiness  isn't  altogether  an  easy  lesson  to  learn," 
was  her  enigmatical  response.  And  the  next  moment 
Katherine  Orlitson  was  alone. 

She  slipped  off  her  black  bodice  and  skirt  to  sit  in 
the  cool  luxury  of  thin  petticoats  and  expensive  corsets, 
one  white,  thin  shoulder  sticking  up  petulantly  above  the 
confinement  of  an  embroidered  strap. 

"  That  didn't  draw,"  she  muttered,  rubbing  her  smooth 
white  cheek  against  the  smooth  white  shoulder.  "  But 
there  is  something  to  draw !  I'd  bet  '  Grey  Rubbers,' 
when  they  reach  their  maximum,  that  there's  something 
to  draw !  Honora  Vayne  mayn't  be  much  over  twent}r, 
and  she  may  live  amidst  the  innocence  of  fowls  and  cab- 
bages, but  she's  got  a  story  and  a  past,  or  else  I'm  not 
the  resourceful  person  I  imagine  myself  to  be!  I'm 
going  to  be  pals  with  her — complete,  absolute  pals — 
but  I'll  draw  that  past!  After  all  my  candour,  it's  an 
affront  for  her  to  keep  an  untold  story  buttoned  up  her 
sleeve ! " 

And  Mrs.  Orlitson  laughed.  She  was  evidently 
amused  at  something. 


CHAPTER    VIH 

THREE  weeks  later  Katherine  Orlitson  and  Honora 
Vayne  had  enjoyed  two  quarrels  and  made  them  up 
a^ain,  and  had  also  discussed  men,  love,  and  all  tribu- 
tary details  of  these  two  great  main  cementers  of  femi- 
nine intimacy. 

Their  friendship,  affection,  and  unity  were  therefore 
complete. 

"  I'm  going  to  walk  into  Transley  for  hairpins,"  an- 
nounced Katherine  one  afternoon. 

Honora  looked  up  from  a  ledger  and  ceased  reckon- 
ing by  means  of  five  fingers  being  prodded  on  to  a  soft 
bosom.  She  was  trying  to  add  up  somewhat  unsatis- 
factory columns  of  outlay  and  returns. 

"  I  can't  come,"  she  answered. 

"  I  never  made  the  slightest  suggestion  that  you 
should,  my  dear.  I  don't  think  I  want  you.  I  may  be 
going  to  meet  my  fate  in  the  shape  of  some  Sussex 
Reuben  with  a  taste  for  red-haired  widows !  Good-bye. 
I  shall  be  back  for  tea  unless  the  Sussex  Reuben  is  too 
ardent,  so  do  let's  have  egg  plums ! " 

When  Mrs.  Orlitson's  short  black  skirt — the  more  de- 
corous and  trailing  garments  of  bereavement  were  aban- 
doned— had  swirled  out  of  the  room,  Honora  laid  down 
a  pen  in  order  to  devote  a  few  moments'  attention  to  her 
thoughts. 

70 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  71 

Certainly  Katherine  couldn't  have  loved  the  dead  hus- 
band whose  insurance  money  had  saved  the  situa- 
tion! 

He  had  died  at  the  end  of  April — it  was  now  the  end 
of  August. 

Four  months  is  a  short  time  for  resignation  and 
brave  cheerfulness  to  grow  the  pace  which  Mrs.  Orlit- 
son's  had  grown. 

"  If  I  had  ever  married  a  man  I  loved,  and  he  had 
been  dead  only  four  months,  I  don't  think  I  should  be 
witty  on  the  subject  of  *  Sussex  Reubens'!"  she  mur- 
mured with  a  quick,  amused  smile. 

But  then,  how  could  Honora  know?  How  can  a  vir- 
gin ever  understand  the  entirely  revolutionised  condition 
of  a  matron's  heart? 

The  woman  who  has  married  a  man  and  experienced 
the  inartistic  intimacies  of  wedded  life  is  a  different 
being  to  the  girl  who  doesn't  even  know  that  shirts  but- 
ton over  from  left  to  right. 

In  one  way  the  wife's  outlook  is  more  enlarged,  in 
another  more  cramped — for  after  all,  what  is  so  glorious 
as  ignorance  and  inexperience? 

Not  to  know — not  to  have  learnt — to  see  miles  of  un- 
trodden ways  stretching  ahead — why,  it  leaves  a  woman 
queen  of  ecstatic  possibilities  with  a  limitless  playground 
for  her  imagination. 

For  another  half -hour  Honora  added  up,  then,  when 
the  sun  intruded  with  too  fierce  insistency  round  the  side 
of  the  dark  green  blind,  she  shut  the  ledger  and  went 
out  of  doors. 


72  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  I'm  only  going  into  the  woods,  Mary,  if  Blenton 
should  come  about  those  packing-cases,"  she  called 
out. 

Mrs.  Tryke  responded  in  a  voice  that  had  been  less 
cheery  since  the  advent  of  the  "  P.G." — the  soil-tiller's 
excellent  wife  felt  morally  smirched  by  even  distant  con- 
tact with  the  flippancies  of  a  "  shameless  'uzzy  giggling 
all  t'  day  when  'er  poor  'usband  'ardly  cold  in  'is  grave, 
so  to  speak !  "  Then  Honora  left  the  house,  ascended  a 
grassy,  hay-strewn  slope,  and  entered  the  cool  shadows 
of  thickly-grown  woods. 

It  suddenly  seemed  that  the  outside  sunlight  was  gar- 
ish, and  that  only  among  these  silent  shades  could  rest 
and  purity  be  found. 

Honora  trod  reverently  like  one  stepping  the  carpeted 
aisles  of  a  cathedral — for  familiarity  with  the  woods 
never  brought  about  heedless  acceptance  of  their  hush 
and  silence. 

To  laugh,  even  in  the  woods,  seemed  unfitting,  unless 
it  might  be  the  low  laughter  of  a  woman  made  glad  by 
the  kisses  of  her  lover. 

"  The — kisses — of — her — lover!  " 

Honora  sat  down,  then  slid  down  full  length  on  the 
fallen  leaves. 

Before  Katherine  came  she  used  to  think,  in  the 
solitary  woman's  unhealthy  way,  a  great  deal  about 
love,  but  the  perpetual  ripple  of  Mrs.  Orlitson's  per- 
petual laughter  had  put  those  natural,  morbid,  beautiful 
thoughts  in  the  background. 

Katherine  was   always   saying  something  spuriously 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  73 

clever,  and  Honora  was  always  answering  something 
spuriously  clever  back  again,  so  that  left  very  little 
time  for  romantic  reflection. 

But  to-day  she  was  alone,  the  woods  were  sympa- 
thetic in  their  mysterious  hush,  and  love  ran  riot,  abso- 
lutely riot,  in  her  mind. 

Honora's  eyes  closed — as  is  the  way  with  tempera- 
mental women  when  their  temperaments  are  in  a  par- 
ticularly assertive  mood — and  her  red  lips  moved  as 
though  they  were  responding  to  the  pressure  of  a  man's 
mouth. 

To  be  kissed  in  the  hush  of  the  woods — how  wonderful 
it  would  be! 

How  every  nerve  in  her  body  could  respond  to  the 
pressure  of  the  Right  Man's  embrace!  How  she  could 
lay  her  arms  about  the  Right  Man's  neck,  and  cool  her 
hot  cheeks  against  the  white  smoothness  of  his  collar ! 
How  she  could  let  herself  be  drawn  closer  and  closer, 
till  the  shadow  of  herself  and  the  Right  Man  would  be 
but  one  shadow ! 

For  months  Honora's  heart  had  held  vague  love- 
longings,  but  to-day  those  vague  longings  suddenly 
became  a  definite  pain. 

It  was  pain  that  her  lips  were  unkissed,  pain  that — 
that— 

A  sob  sounded  in  her  throat,  and  without  opening 
her  eyes  she  raised  one  hand  to  her  lips  and  passionately 
kissed  the  soft  white  flesh. 

"  My  darling !  My  darling !  "  she  cried,  making  her 
voice  deep  like  the  voice  of  a  man.  It  was  such  foolish, 


74  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

hysterical  make-believe,  but  there  was  comfort  in  the 
pretence.  "  Honora,  I  love  you,  I " 

The  words  ceased,  the  kisses  ceased.  Honora  was 
conscious  of  something,  of  some  alien  element  which 
had 

She  opened  her  extraordinarily  beautiful  eyes,  and 
saw  a  man — a  man  who  was  watching  her  with  a  curi- 
ously analytical  expression  on  his  face! 

Honora  did  nothing — there  was  nothing  she  could 
do — and  the  man  was  still  looking. 

Their  eyes  met.  His  were  either  grey  or  blue,  and 
Honora  realised  that  he  was  a  large  man,  actually 
rather  fair,  while  giving  the  impression  of  being 
dark. 

His  mouth  was  shaved  clean,  and  in  his  definite  chin 
was  the  hint  of  a  cleft. 

His  skin  was  bronzed.  His  clothes  were  nondescript 
and  dark  blue.  His  hat  was  straw.  His  boots  were 
tan.  He  carried  a  thick  sixpenny  stick. 

For  a  moment  that  exchange  of  glances  was  expres- 
sionless, then,  as  gradually  a  smile  of  faintly  quizzical 
amusement  caused  the  flash  of  one  gold-stopped  tooth 
to  be  revealed,  Honora  fully  comprehended  what  had 
happened. 

She  had  been  seen — caught — by  a  strange  man  of 
apparently  her  own  class,  when  occupied  with  the  ex- 
traordinary diversion  of  kissing  her  own  hand  and 
calling  herself  "  Darling!  " 

Without  any  doubt  he  had  heard,  and  without  any 
doubt  he  had  seen. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  75 

What  might  he  not  do?  What  might  he  not  say  to 
her? 

Honora  didn't  wait  to  test  these  possibilities,  but 
dashing  up  from  her  indecorous,  prostrate  position 
turned  to  the  left  and  ran,  ran  through  the  trees  till  at 
least  the  eighth  of  a  mile  must  have  separated  her  and 
the  large  man  in  the  dark  blue  suit. 

But  even  though  they  were  far  apart  it  seemed 
as  if  trees  carried  the  echo  of  a  low,  amused 
laugh. 

Honora  did  not  sit  down  again.  She  changed  the 
run  to  a  walk,  and  continued  to  thread  her  way 
through  the  trees. 

Who  was  this  man?  Probably  a  golfer,  who  had 
strolled  over  from  Transley,  where  the  links  were 
famous — to  explore  the  outlying  country. 

Heaven  be  praised!  They  would  never  be  likely  to 
meet  again.  Honora  felt  that  if  she  were  ever  called 
upon  to  face  the  large  man  in  the  dark  blue  suit  there 
would  be  no  possibility  of  her  surviving  the  ordeal. 

And  his  eyes  were  so  insolent,  yet Honora 

flushed  in  the  shadow  of  the  woods,  for  her  mind  had 
once  more  inconsequently  reverted  to  thoughts  of  the 
Right  Man  whose  collar  she  had  longed  to  kiss. 

This  stranger,  this  big  person  wouldn't — so  far  as 
outward  personality  was  concerned — be  at  all  impos- 
sible in  the  role  of  Right  Man. 

He  was  so  large  and  strong  that  the  crush  of  his 
embrace  might  inflict  a  suggestion  of  pain — and  love 
without  pain  is  like  lamb  without  mint  sauce. 


76 

The  lamb  might  be  mutton,  and  the  love  might  be 
friendship. 

Still  Honora  hurried  on  until  beneath  the  shade  of 
a  hillock  she  suddenly  came  upon  a  man  and  a  girl 
who  were  embracing  with  that  curious  disregard  of 
possible  observation  peculiar  to  the  lower  middle 
classes. 

The  man's  arms — both  of  them — were  around  the 
girl's  waist;  the  girl's  arms — both  of  them — were 
around  the  man's  neck;  her  ill-cut  skirt  was  drawn  to 
one  side,  showing  a  liberal  expanse  of  ill-cut  leg,  and 
their  mouths  were  glued  together  in  a  kiss  that  was — 
in  their  case — an  indecency. 

But  in  other  circumstances — a  shady,  fairy-haunted 
wood  full  of  silence — and  with  other  people — a  differ- 
ent man  and  a  different  woman — such  a  kiss  might  have 
been  regarded  as  a  purely  passionate  poem — and  this 
was  what  Honora  realised  as  she  turned  and  retraced 
her  steps. 

Her  face  was  hot,  her  limbs  felt  hot,  her  whole  body 
felt  hot  with  that  peculiar  glow  which  is  the  direct  re- 
sult of  a  temperament. 

That  man  and  that  girl!  How  close  together  they 
were!  How  close — how  close! 

Honora  moistened  her  own  red  lips,  which  were  defi- 
nitely parted  now,  and  hurried  back. 

There  must  be  no  more  dalliance,  as  there  were  the 
eggs  to  be  collected,  and  Katherine  would  be  waiting 
for  tea. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  she  reached  the  little  shady 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  77 

rutted  road  which  Katherine  Orlitson  had  designated 
"  Our  carriage  drive,"  and  as  she  approached,  a  crowd 
of  hungry  feathered  things  strutted  forward  to  wel- 
come her — at  least  to  welcome  the  probable  approach 
of  a  meal ! 

"  Be  patient,  be  patient ! "  cried  Honora,  addressing 
the  unquellable  red  rooster.  "  Humanity's  perpetual 
lesson  in  patience  and  fowls " 

But  the  homily  was  left  unfinished,  because  at  that 
instant  Katherine  Orlitson  appeared  at  the  open  door, 
and  then  ran  forward  with  the  small-stepped  run  of 
town  women. 

Her  red  hair  was  very  slightly  disordered,  and  on 
her  white  angular  cheeks  was  a  faint  flush. 

"  I'm  so  excited,  so  immensely  excited ! "  she  cried ; 
"  and  I  expect  you  to  be  the  same !  I  can  show  you 
I'm  genuine  now.  I  believe  you  always  have  a  sort 
of  vague  doubts  about  me,  even  though  I'm  so  beauti- 
fully candid  while  you  keep  most  uninspiringly  close 
and  secretive.  Come  along.  Confound  your  silly,  lag- 
ging little  feet!" 

Down  the  rutted  road,  through  her  own  parlour  Ho- 
nora was  rushed. 

She  felt  out  of  breath — bewildered — blinded  by  the 
shadows. 

"Now,  I  told  you  I  had  a  brother,  didn't  I?" 
Katherine  rattled  on,  slurring  her  words  and  speaking 
with  more  dramatic  throatiness  than  usual.  "  I  said 
he  was  a  large  brother,  and  a  brother  who  had  gone 
abroad !  Well,  he's  come  home !  He  received  my  news- 


78  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

paper  with  the  account  of  poor  Roger's  death;  he 
took  a  steamer,  reached  England,  went  to  Seedling- 
ditch,  got  my  present  address  from  Dr.  Sphait,  and 
now  he's  come  after  me  to  Upper  Deerbuck  Farm! 
Bernard,  Bernard — come  in!  Miss  Vayne  doesn't  al- 
low strangers  to  stand  outside  the  window  without 
special  permission."  A  large  shadow  darkened  the 
French  window.  "  Come  in — Honora,  Miss  Vayne,  this 
is  '  Berr ' — my  large  brother,  Bernard  Benstead ! 
Please  excuse  him  for  not  being  more  like  me ! " 

The  shadow  became  a  substance — a  man  was  bowing 
a  conventional  bow — it  was  the  man  who  had  seen, 
heard,  and  smiled  in  the  wood ! 


CHAPTER    IX 

HONORA'S  composure  appeared  complete.  She  re- 
turned the  bow — distantly — but  she  felt  that  her 
cheeks  were  white  with  shame.  And  the  thudding  of 
her  heart  was  agony. 

"  Isn't  it  fun,  Honora,  his  turning  up  like  this?  It 
amuses  me  immensely — and  it  pleases  me ! "  cried 
Katherine. 

The  large  man  smiled,  and  once  more  Honora  saw 
the  flash  of  a  gold-filled  tooth. 

"He  is  big,  isn't  he?"  Mrs.  Orlitson  rattled  on. 
"  Rather  sinful-looking  in  a  sandy  sort  of  way,  but 
not  at  all  bad.  You'll  be  quite  a  harmless  sort  of 
'P.G.',  won't  you,  Berr?" 

"'P.G.'?  What  degree  is  signified  by  « P.G.,'  my 
dear  Katherine?  "  enquired  Bernard  Benstead,  speak- 
ing at  last  in  a  voice  which  slightly  slurred,  and 
rumbled  like  that  of  his  sister's. 

"  Not  *  Pious  Grandfather  '  or  even — er— er — 
*  Pneumatic  Gargoyle,'  but  '  Paying  Guest,'  you  side-y 
person.  Oh,  yes,  I  know  that  pretended  ignorance, 
which  is  nothing  but  sort  of  side  like  mouldy  judges 
put  on!  Yes,  you'll  be  Miss  Vayne's  T.G.* — you'll 
have  him,  won't  you,  Honora?  " 

"  Since  you  see  fit  to  consult  me  upon  the  matter, 
I'm  afraid  I  must  decline  to — to  let  any  more  rooms," 
replied  Honora  coldly. 

79 


80  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

Katherine  gazed  with  absolute  astonishment  shining 
from  her  light  grey  eyes. 

"  Ho — no— ra!  What  is  the  matter?  Why  are  you 
freezing  me  into  an  unfortunate  Neapolitan — No, 
British — ice  ?  What  have  I  done  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  dear,  nothing,  only  I — I  don't  see  my 
way  to  receive  any  more  visitors.  I  am — sorry !  " 
And  with  a  stately  inclination  of  her  dark  head,  Honora 
left  the  room. 

Katherine  turned  to  her  brother. 

"  I'm  petrified,  positively  petrified !  "  She  exclaimed. 
"  Honora's  a  sweet,  dear,  delightful  thing,  Berr !  I 
adore  her — she's  made  me  under  twenty  again.  I've 
never  liked  a  woman  really  before.  I  love  her — even 
though  I'm  sure  she's  got  a  past.  I  can't  imagine 
what's  the  matter !  " 

"  I  think  I  can  tell  you,"  replied  Bernard  easily. 
"On  my  way  here  I  met  this  emotional  young  lady  in 
the  wood,  and  seeing  a  good-looking  girl — she's  ex- 
ceptionally good-looking  in  her  own  way,  isn't  she? — 
stretched  out  in  the  pose  of  a  declassee  wood  nymph. 
I  permitted  myself  the  impertinence  of  a  stare 
and  a  smile — two  smiles — possibly  it  may  have  been 
three  smiles.  I  was  very  impertinent — I'm  extremely 
sorry ! " 

"  How  tiresome  of  you,  Berr — but  of  course  it  was 
natural.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  natural,  and 
I'm  sure  if  I'd  posed  a  la  dryade  and  a  young  man  had 
passed  without  staring  and  smiling,  I  should  have  con- 
sidered it  an  affront.  But  Honora  is  different.  In 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  81 

some  things  she's  so  self-contained  and  dignified.  She'd 
probably  sacrifice  her  soul,  virtue,  and  lots  of  other 
useful  things  for  the  sake  of  a  man  who  took  her  fancy, 
but  she'd  resent  a  smile  and  a  stare  like  mad." 

"  I  understand.  Lots  of  girls  are  like  that — in 
books — aren't  they?  Confounded  nuisance !"  However, 
do  what  you  can,  Kit,  to  put  matters  right.  I  want 
to  stay  here — the  place  is  ripping — most  conducive  to 
moral  reformation.  Say — yes,  say  I'm  near-sighted 
to  the  verge  of  blindness — mind  you  achieve  that  He 
for  me?  Say  I've  got  a  way  of  staring  without  seeing 
anything.  Say  I — I — thought  she  was  a  child,  and 
grinned  paternally — say  it  well,  insistently,  patheti- 
cally, convincingly." 

Mrs.  Orlitson  nodded  her  red  head. 

"  No  need  to  coach  me,  dear  boy !  Was  there  ever 
a  Benstead  who  lied  without  being  pathetic  and  con- 
vincing? You  wait  here.  I'll  come  back  when  I've 
either  failed  or  succeeded!" 

When  Katherine  reached  Honora's  bedroom  she 
knocked  timidly  at  the  door. 

A  pause — then 

"Come  in." 

Mrs.  Orlitson  made  a  splendid  R.  U.  E.  entrance 
with  both  thin  arms  outstretched  and  a  cooing  cry 
upon  her  lips.  A  Southport  gallery  audience  had 
once  nearly  encored  this  entrance. 

"  Honora  darling,  Berr's  just  told  me  what  he  be- 
lieves is  the  matter ! "  Honora's  cheeks  flamed.  So, 
besides  laughing  at  her  folly,  he  had  also  betrayed  it! 


82  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

— betrayed  to  another  woman!  "  He  says  he  saw  some- 
body in  the  woods,  but  is  so  awfully  near-sighted — 
poor  old  dear,  he's  had  three  operations  already — sort 
of  intermittent  cataract — can  see  perfectly  well  one 
hour  and  is  more  than  three  parts  blind  the  next ! — 
yes,  so  awfully  near-sighted  that  he  thought  it  was 
some  child,  and  thinking  it  was  a  kid  he  naturally 
smiled  out  of  sheer  good-nature.  Berr's  awfully  good- 
natured  and  simple-minded — without  remotely  guess- 
ing that  he  was  staring  at — he  does  have  to  stare  and 
peer  so,  poor  boy ! — at  an  awfully  pretty  woman !  He 
begs  me  to  put  it  right  for  him — he  wants  to  stay 
awfully.  I  want  him  to.  Honora,  darling,  pal,  do,  do 
let  my  large,  inoffending  brother  come  as  a  *  P.  G. ! " 

The  flames  had  left  Honora's  face. 

So  he  really  hadn't  seen  that  supremely  nonsensical 
impulse — he  didn't  know  that  she  had  kissed  her  own 
hand  just  because  there  wasn't  anyone  else  to  kiss  it — 
and  quite  likely  he  hadn't  heard  either.  Now  Honora 
recalled  her  own  voice,  she  felt  sure  it  hadn't  been 
raised  when  addressing  herself  as  "  My  darling"  In 
fact  she  had  imitated  a  man's  gruff,  non-penetrating 
tones ! 

"  You  will  let  poor  Berr  be  a  *  P.G.%  won't  you, 
Honora,  darling?  " 

"  Now  that  you've  explained,  Katherine,  I — I  think 
it'll  be  all  right  for  Mr.  Benstead  to  stay — if  he 
doesn't  find  the  other  room  too  small ! " 

Mrs.  Orlitson  clapped  her  hands  rapturously,  then 
squeezed  Honora's  waist. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  83 

"  You  angel !  You  seraph !  And,  Ora,  dear,  you'd 
better  charge  Berr  £3  3s.  a  week." 

For  the  first  time  Honora  Vayne  winced  at  financial 
details.  Ever  since  buying  the  Upper  Deerbuck 
Chicken  Farm  it  had  been  a  perpetual  round  of  taking 
money  in  exchange  for  goods,  and  even  Katherine's 
weekly  bill  hadn't  proved  disturbing. 

But  now,  all  of  a  sudden  and  for  absolutely  no  rea- 
son, Honora  shrank  from  discussing  the  practical 
aspect  of  the  situation. 

"  Not  on  any  account  such  a  large  sum  as  that,"  she 
said  decisively.  "  I'd — I'd  rather  we  let  that  slide — 
your  own  arrangement  with  me  is  so  liberal  th — that 
it  would  be  a  pleasure  for  your  brother  to  stay " 

Two  thin  fingers  were  snapped  just  under  Honora's 
nose. 

"  Not  much !  "  retorted  Mrs.  Orlitson.  "  I  believe 
Berr's  come  back  quite  well  off — his  stick's  so  cheap 
and  he's  got  a  gun  metal  watch — that  looks  like  it, 
doesn't  it  ? — but  we'll  settle  that  later.  All  I  care  about 
is  that  Berr  may  stay ! " 

"  Yes — he — may — stay !  "  answered  Honora  softly. 
And  there  was  a  catch  in  her  breath — she  had  just  re- 
membered about  the  Right  Man — how  he  might  pos- 
sibly  

Yes,  Bernard  Benstead  might  stay. 


CHAPTER   X 

"  GOOD  LOED  !  I  believe  they're  going  to  fall  in 
love!" 

Mrs.  Orlitson  made  this  remark  to  herself  as  she 
looked  from  behind  the  curtains  of  her  bedroom  win- 
dow at  her  brother  and  Honora,  who  were  standing  in 
the  seed-strewn  yard  below. 

Honora  was  wearing  a  white  dress — Katherine  noted 
that  her  attire  had  become  more  effective  and  less 
insistently  rustic  during  the  last  ten  days — and  on  her 
cheeks  was  that  flush  which  transformed  her  into  a 
vividly  beautiful  woman — while  Bernard  kept  his  eyes 
fixed  on  her  face. 

"  It  would  be  nice.  I  should  like  Honora  for  a 
sister-in-law.  But  I'll  have  to  get  that  past  out  of 
her  first.  Not  that  a  past  matters — of  course — but  I 
want  to  know.  Perhaps  there's  nothing — but  it's 
funny  she  won't  be  candid  like  I  am  about  myself !  " 
And  Mrs.  Orlitson  laughed — she  often  laughed  with- 
out the  least  reason. 

Meanwhile  Bernard  was  asking  a  great  many  ques- 
tions about  the  farm.  He  had  asked  most  of  them 
before,  but  that  was  no  reason  why  they  shouldn't  be 
asked  again. 

"  Can't  be  very  profitable  to  kill  a  hen  that  lays 
six  or  seven  eggs  a  week,  is  it?  "  he  enquired,  follow- 
ing Honora  in  the  direction  of  the  styes,  where  a  lady 

84 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  85 

pig,  who  shortly  expected  to  be  the  happy  mother  of 
twelve,  was  awaiting  her  customary  afternoon  tea  of 
mangel-wurzel. 

"  Hens  never  are  killed,  unless  it's  old  ones  who're 
past  laying  and  are  sold  as  boiling  fowls — but  I — I 
never  do  that,"  answered  Honora  gravely. 

"  What,  is  it  only  the  chaps " 

"  Yes,  only  the  roosters  who  are  killed.  In  poultry- 
land,  Mr.  Benstead,  and  nowhere  else,  is  femininity 
placed  at  its  just  valuation.  The  useless  male  thing 
dies,  the  profitable  female,  who  justifies  her  existence, 
lives  on  in  luxury !  " 

"  I  see.  Not  a  single  suffragist  hen  among  all  the 
crowd  then,  I  suppose  ?  But  after  all  " — Bernard 
grew  reflective  and  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  grey  sea-line — 
"  the  profitable  female  fowl  wouldn't  be  quite  so  profit- 
able if  deprived  of  male  co-operation,  would  she?  I'm 
not  quite  sure  that  the  theory  doesn't  hold  all 
through ! " 

Honora  laughed.  The  subject  was  scarcely  one  for 
exhaustive  discussion,  particularly  with  a  man  whose 
eyes  were  sometimes  disconcerting  and  whose  mouth 
very  definitely  emphasised  the  fact  of  his  sex ;  so  she 
made  a  pretence  of  dashing  forward  to  separate  a 
couple  of  bantams  who  occasionally  evidenced  antago- 
nistic propensities. 

But  the  pretence  wasn't  a  success,  for  the  regrettable 
reason  that  Honora  slipped  over  a  dropped  apple  par- 
ing and  would  have  fallen  if  Bernard's  large  arm 
hadn't  immediately  come  to  the  rescue. 


86  THE     WILD    WIDOW 

"  You  clumsy  little  girl ! "  Like  a  caress  the  words 
left  his  lips — and  his  arm  was  still  about  her  shoulders. 

Honora  stood  perfectly  still  for  a  moment,  and 
knew  that  the  pressure  of  his  arm  filled  some  unclassi- 
fied gap  in  her  emotions. 

She  would  like  him  to  draw  her  closer,  closer  still — 
to  hold  her — to  touch  her — to — but  instead  she  broke 
away  from  a  support  that  was  almost  an  embrace ! 

"  I  am  clumsy.  I  really  must  get  a  pair  of  Mrs. 
Tryke's  *  Plimsolls.'  I  never  knew  why  indiarubber 
soled  shoes  are  called  *  Plimsolls ' — they  defy  apple 
parings  or  even  banana  skins,  I  think " 

Honora  was  talking  rapidly — like  Katherine  talked 
— and  with  only  a  very  vague  notion  of  what  she  was 
saying.  For  some  inexplicable  reason  she  suddenly  re- 
membered that  kissing  couple  who,  ten  days  ago,  had 
been  sheltered  behind  a  hillock,  and  the  remembrance 
seemed  to  burn  through  her  whole  body. 

Then  she  looked  up,  met  Bernard  Benstead's  eyes, 
and  saw  the  set  of  his  mouth.  Both  were  touched  with 
passion,  while  the  bronze  of  his  face  and  throat  had 
reddened. 

"  Bessie,  Bessie ! "  Honora  called  boisterously  to  the 
big  grey  sow,  whose  little  eyes  were  already  beautiful 
with  approaching  motherhood — or  meals — and,  hurry- 
ing away  from  her  companion,  reached  the  stye. 

Bessie  ate  the  juicy  root  vegetables  with  relish  and 
placed  her  fat  back  in  a  position  convenient  for  being 
scratched. 

Honora   leant  over  and  scratched  vigorously  with 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  87 

a  stick — never  before  had  Bessie  felt  so  gratified — 
then,  having  forcibly  dispersed  her  embarrassment, 
she  looked  round  intending  to  pronounce  some  playful 
flippancy  that  would  wipe  out  the  memory  of  that 
half  embrace. 

But  the  flippancy  was  unneeded — Bernard  had 
gone! 

Honora  breathed  a  deep  breath,  half  of  relief,  half 
of  disappointment. 

She  wanted  him — she  wanted  him — she  didn't  want 
him!  She  didn't  want  him!  She  mustn't  want  him! 
She  daren't  want  him — yet  she  did,  she  did,  she  did, 
she  did! 

"  Bessie,  I  love  him,  I'm  in  love  with  him.  I'm  just 
waiting  for  the  day  when  he  will  kiss  me — in  the  woods ! 
It  must  be  in  the  woods — Bessie !  Bessie !  " 

"  Ur !  Ur !  Ur !  "  replied  Bessie.  That  pink  hog  in 
the  field  was  a  very  fine  fellow.  Perhaps  she  under- 
stood. 

Having  discharged  this  load  of  truths  from  her 
heart,  Honora — who  felt  weak  with  emotional  exhaus- 
tion— walked  slowly  back  towards  the  house,  against 
which  leaned  the  scarlet  bicycle  of  a  telegraph  boy. 

A  telegram!  Who  could  it  be  from?  Who  could 
it  be  for? 

A  black-gowned  figure  had  appeared  at  the  door- 
way. She  was  flying,  flying,  with  hands  outstretched, 
as  though  one  wing  was  an  orange  envelope,  and  an- 
other a  pink  slip  of  paper.  Her  red  hair  glowed  fire- 
like  in  the  sunshine — her  white  face  was  whiter  than  it 


88  THE     WILD    WIDOW 

had  ever  been  before,  and  her  light  grey  eyes  were 
almost  shut. 

"  It's  happened !  It's  happened !  "  she  cried,  speak- 
ing low  and  fast.  "  After  twenty-nine  years  I've  got 
what  I  want.  Oh,  Honora,  I  wanted  it  so,  and  I've 
got  it.  '  Grey  Rubbers,'  my  dear — Grey  Rubbers 
bought  at  £1  a  share  and  sold  to-day  at  £40  a  share 
— £5,000 — worth  I  bought,  Honora,  and  now — 
now ! " 

The  telegram  fluttered  to  the  ground,  and  Roger 
Orlitson's  widow  slipped  down — fainting — across  the 
bewildering  message. 


CHAPTER    XI 

KATHERINE  ORLITSON  was  lying  across  the  bed. 

Exactly  twenty-four  hours  had  passed  since  the  re- 
ceipt of  her  stockbroker's  bewildering  telegram,  and 
she  was  still  repeating  the  glorified  news  to  herself. 

In  April  she  had  been  washing  greasy  dishes  and 
filling  battered  coal-scuttles,  debts  had  been  pressing 
on  every  side — debts  there  seemed  no  hope  of  paying — 
and  now — now  she  was  a  definitely  wealthy  woman ! 

The  almost  soundless  "  whir-r-r-r "  of  an  electric 
brougham  seemed  to  reach  her  ears.  She  could  see 
her  own  red  head  rising  out  of  costly  furs  as  on  silent 
wheels  she  was  taken  through  the  Park,  or  to  pay  calls 
on  other  women  who  were  wealthy.  She  could  see 
diamonds  shooting  out  lights  from  her  white  thin 
throat  and  hair  and  arms;  she  could  realise  exquisite 
gowns,  she  could  feel  the  throb  of  vie  de  luxe  in  every 
vein  and  in  every  pulse. 

September!  It  was  now  the  beginning  of  Septem- 
ber, and  still  her  strength  was  not  fully  restored  after 
that  illness  which  followed  the  nerve-racking  time  pre- 
ceding it. 

Sudden  death,  its  attendant  gruesome  rites  and  for- 
mulae, London,  Monte  Carlo,  the  strain  of  acute,  un- 
ceasing mental  concentration,  the  triumph  of  success, 
had  all  considerably  undermined  her  vital  powers,  so 

89 


90  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

another  seven  or  eight  months  of  seclusion — which  must 
pass  before  convention  could  allow  any  obvious  lessen- 
ing of  widowed  grief — spent  here  with  Honora  would 
be  ideal. 

And  apres 

Apres,  LIFE  spelt  with  those  huge  capitals  which 
only  the  rich  have  any  right  to  use. 

Life  isn't  life  to  a  woman  unless  she  is  either  rich  or 
has  never  realised  the  possibilities  of  wealth. 

But  just  to  have  tasted  stolen,  intermittent  sips 
from  the  Cup  of  Pleasure,  and  then  to  spend  all  the 
rest  of  the  time  in  watching  other  people  quaff — 0 
God,  help  the  canker  that  grows  in  the  heart ! 

Other  people's  carriages,  other  people's  diamonds, 
other  people's  motors,  other  people's  opera  boxes  sim- 
ply form  everlasting  scourges  which  cause  agony, 
ranging  from  chronic  to  acute,  according  to  the  time 
of  the  year. 

From  May  to  August,  when  London  window-boxes 
are  abloom  and  when  accounts  of  the  season's  festivi- 
ties fill  nearly  every  column  of  nearly  every  paper,  is 
the  acute  period.  Then  a  ride  on  a  motor  'bus  or  a 
walk  down  Piccadilly  is  like  a  whip-lash  to  the  woman 
with  £300  a  year! 

But  there  would  be  no  more  whip-lashes  or  scourg- 
ings  for  Katharine  Orlitson. 

The  gravely  furnished  Hyde  Park  flat — perhaps  a 
maisonette  with  a  billiard-room  on  the  lower  floor — 
would  be  possible;  a  few  silent  servants,  a  luxurious 
club,  one  or  two  things  on  wheels,  gowns  for  every 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  91 

occasion,  and — when  she  made  a  circle  of  desirable 
acquaintances  through  the  introductions  of  Evelyn 
Chesham — occasions  for  every  gown! 

Ah!  it  would  be  good! 

Katherine  threw  open  the  kimono  wrapper  she  was 
wearing  and  stretched  lazily.  She  was  supposed  to  be 
going  for  a  walk  with  Honora  and  Berr,  but  she  didn't 
want  to. 

There  were  thoughts  to  be  thought  and  a  letter  to 
be  written. 

That  letter  must  be  written  to-day. 

"  Honora !    Hon-or-a ! " 

She  called  shrilly,  and  a  moment  later  the  door 
opened  to  admit  Honora,  who  was  wearing  a  cream 
cambric  gown  with  one  blood-red  dahlia  stuck  in  the 
waistband. 

"How  more  than  pretty  you  look!"  ejaculated 
Katherine  ruminatingly.  "  You're  nearly  lovely  some- 
times, aren't  you  ?  " 

"  If  you've  called  me  here  to  be  insulted  by 
'  nearlys  '  I'll  go !  "  replied  Honora  blithely.  She  felt 
happy  to-day — extraordinarily,  dangerously  happy, 
and  without  any  special  reason. 

"  No,  I  called  you  to  say  that  I  can't  go  out — I  feel 
slack — you  and  Berr  will  have  to  go  by  yourselves. 
You  can,  can't  you  ?  " 

"  Oh !  yes — I  suppose  we  can,  but — but  I  thought 
you  had  arranged  to  come." 

"  Of  course  I  arranged,  ma  mie,  but  you  must  learn 
that  to  a  woman  of  my  temperament  the  attraction  of 


92  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

making  arrangements  lies  in  the  joy  of  breaking  them. 
You  aren't  a  bit  like  that,  are  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I'm  a  humdrum,  methodical  person — one  of 
those  natural  old  maids  hedged  in  by  routine  and  cau- 
tion." Honora  spoke  vehemently  and  with  a  certain 
underlying  passion. 

"  Yes— you  look  like  that !  " 

Katherine's  intonation  was  humorous,  but  Honora 
did  not  smile. 

"  Ah !  but  it's  true,  Katherine,  it's  true.  Some- 
times I  absolutely  respect  women  who  are  brave  enough 
to  be  entirely  wicked.  I  never  could.  I  might  dally 
with  sin,  hedge  around  it,  beckon  it,  but  I  should 
always  be  a  coward!  You,  I  know,  are  immensely 
brave.  If  you  meant  to  do  a  thing  you'd  go  right 
through  with  it." 

"  Yes — I — should — go — right — through  with  it ! " 
repeated  Katherine,  for  once  speaking  slowly  and 
monotonously. 

"  It's  splendid,  but — I  never  could !  " 

A  pause. 

"Honora!" 

"Yes?" 

"Why  are  you  here?  What  is  your  life?  What  is 
your  love  story  ?  " 

There  was  a  pause  while  Honora  tensely  gripped 
at  the  rail  of  the  bed  and  kept  her  lips  tightly  closed. 

But  when  she  answered  her  voice  was  calm  and  level. 

"  I  am  here  so  that  the  very  small  capital  which 
came  to  me  when  I  was  twenty-one  should  be  made  to 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  93 

yield  an  income — that  is  to  say,  I  bought  this  place 
in  the  way  of  an  investment.  My  life  has  been  more 
or  less  uneventful.  My  mother  died  when  I  was 
twelve,  and  then  I  travelled  abroad  with  my  father 
till  he  died  in  Scotland  a  little  over  two  years  ago — 
after  which  I  came  to  England  and  negotiated  for  the 
farm.  And  my  love-story — well,  so  far  there  has  been 
no  love-story  in  all  my  life.  I  have  answered  your 
questions  truthfully,  Katherine.  I  hope  details  are  sat- 
isfactory." 

Katherine  stretched  out  her  hand — there  was  real 
affection  as  well  as  dramatic  action  in  the  gesture. 

"  Don't  be  haughty,  dearie,"  she  cried.  "  I  only 
asked  out  of  loving  interest — not  inquisitiveness — and 
as  I've  told  you  all  reprehensible  details  about  myself, 
I  thought  a  little  friendly  confidence  in  return  was  my 
due.  And  you  must  confess,  Ora,  there  is  something 
mildly  mysterious  about  a  young  and  not  particularly 
bad-looking  girl — ahem ! — who  lives  alone,  unwedded, 
unloved  and  unloving  on  a  chicken  farm !  A  peck  from 
the  beak  of  an  affectionate  rooster  may  be  all  right  in 
its  way,  but  it's  not  so  satisfying  as  a  lover's  kiss. 
You  seem  at  present  a  sort  of  unawakened  person,  like 
some  mythology  lady — a  lover  would  make  you 
divine ! " 

Honora  relaxed  her  grip  upon  the  bedrails  and 
laughed. 

"  My  divinity  is  a  very  far-away  state  of  affairs, 
I'm  afraid,"  she  said  lightly.  "  And  now  about  the 
walk?  You  aren't  coming  then?" 


94  THE     WILD    WIDOW 

"  No,  I  want  to  lie  and  think  how  I'll  spend 
my  money  in  London  next  spring.  Run  away  and 
play,  dear — play  with  my  little  brother  Berr.  I  know 
a  very  good  game  that  would  just  suit  you  two!  Ha- 
ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!  It's  called  Honora,  the  game  of 
lo " 

But  Honora  had  left  the  room  before  Mrs.  Orlit- 
son's  sentence  was  finished.  She  didn't  hear  what  that 
good  game  was  called. 

In  the  hall  she  met  Bernard,  looking  particularly 
large  in  white  cloth  trousers  and  a  loose  golfing  coat. 
He  had  watched  her  as  she  descended  the  stairs,  and 
was  still  gazing  reflectively  at  her  gracious  figure. 

"  Katherine  doesn't  want  to  go  out,"  announced 
Honora  carelessly,  "  so  we  can  postpone  the  walk  until 
to-morrow." 

"  Of  course  we  can.    Come  along.    Are  you  ready  ?" 

"  I  said  we  could  postpone  the  walk " 

"  Certainly,  so  we  will.  The  walk  which  you,  Kath- 
erine, and  myself  were  going  to  take  to-day  can  be 
postponed — but  you  and  I  will  go  for  (mother  one 
now  on  our  own  account.  Come  along !  " 

"  Perhaps  I  don't  intend  to  come  along,  Mr.  Ben- 
stead." 

"  Perhaps  not — come  along !  " 

Honora  hesitated.  Why  should  she  obey  this  man? 
Why  should  she  let  him  take  it  for  granted  that 

"  I'll  wait  for  you  outside ;  don't  be  long,  because 
September  sunlight  isn't  everlasting." 

She  felt  impotent.     He  had  strolled  out  of  the  low 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  95 

front  door  and  was  gently  stroking  the  speckled 
feathers  of  a  Grey  Wyandotte  with  his  sixpenny  stick. 

She  would  let  him  go  on  strolling  by  himself — she 
wouldn't  think  of  going  when  she  didn't  intend  to  go. 

But  even  as  Honora  insisted  and  argued  to  herself, 
the  voice  of  Desire  shouted  aloud  in  her  ear. 

"  Go  with  him,  go  with  him ! "  cried  Desire.  "  Life 
has  not  so  many  perfect  hours  that  we  can  afford  to 
miss  those  which  are  thrown  in  our  way.  You  love 
him!  Why  not  let  him  love  you  just  for  half  a  day — 
and  now  every  one  of  his  nerves  is  aquiver  with  love. 
Go  to  him,  for  he  will  leave  you  with  memories  which 
no  past  or  no  future  can  spoil.  Go!  " 

And  without  waiting  another  second,  Honora  went. 

Bernard  slightly  raised  his  hat  as  she  approached — 
a  half-grudging  concession  to  convention  that  seemed 
out  of  place  among  haystacks  and  granaries — and  fell 
in  with  her  pace. 

He  made  no  remark  upon  the  mute  obedience  to  his 
will,  but  accepted  her  presence  as  his  due.  He  had 
said  "  Come  along,"  and  of  course  she  came.  He  was 
a  man  who  wanted  her  to  come — she  was  a  woman  who 
wanted  to  come. 

"Where  shall  we  go?"  asked  Honora,  as  they  left 
the  rutted  "  carriage  drive." 

"  To  the  woods." 

His  answer  was  briefly  decisive,  and  Honora's  heart 
seemed  to  turn  a  species  of  somersault  within  her 
breast — for  she  knew  what  that  would  mean  if  they 
went  alone  together  into  the  hush  of  the  woods. 


96  THE     WILD    WIDOW 

"Wh — why  not  make  for  the  sea  to-day,  and — get 
some  ozone?  "  she  suggested  nervously. 

"  Because  I  want  to  be  in  the  woods — with 
you" 

And  five  minutes  later  they  passed  into  the  gold- 
flecked  gloom  of  the  trees. 

Honora  felt  she  must  say  something — anything! 
This  silence  was  indecent — as  though  she  were  wait- 
ing  

"How  are  your  eyes?  Have  they  been  better  since 
you  came  here?  "  she  enquired. 

"My  eyes!"  There  was  astonishment  in  the  ejacu- 
lation. 

"  Yes,  Katherine  told  me  you  were  very  near- 
sighted— intermittent  cataract  or  something  of  the 
sort." 

Bernard  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed.  There 
was  a  flash  of  that  gold-filled  tooth. 

"  Of  course  she  told  you — I  insisted  upon  her  doing 
so — the  lie  was  mine,  not  hers !  " 

"You — mean  that  you  are  not  near-sighted — that 
you  saw ?  " 

The  vivid  flush  which  made  Honora  beautiful  left 
her  face. 

«  Yes,  I  saw!  " 

"  And— you— told— Katherine?  " 

"  I  did  not  tell  Katherine."  There  was  no  doubting 
this  statement:  Bernard  was  speaking  the  truth  now. 
"  I  merely  told  her  I  had  seen  you,  admired  you,  stared 
and  smiled;  and  then  I  instructed  her  as  to  how  she 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  97 

was  to  make  peace  for  me.  It  was  an  excusable  lie,  for 
I  couldn't  have  left  you." 

Honora  left  the  significance  of  these  last  words  un- 
heeded— she  only  knew  that  he  had  witnessed  her  folly, 
"  sensual  folly,"  perhaps,  as  a  coarse-minded  male  crea- 
ture might  call  that  absurd  outburst  of  feminine  lone- 
liness. 

"  Yes,  I  saw  you  kiss  your  pretty  white  hand — 
how  white  it  is,  Honora! — and  at  that  very  moment  I 
wanted  to  put  my  lips  where  yours  had  been.  I  heard 
you  call  your  little  solitary  self  *  My  darling ' — and, 
unknown  to  you,  I  repeated  the  words.  I  absolutely 
understand  the  romance  and  loneliness  of  your  heart ! " 

"  You — understand !  " 

Gravely  his  eyes  met  hers  through  the  shadows. 

"  I  absolutely  understood,  Honora !  " 

A  passionate  gratitude  surged  in  Honora's  heart. 
He  had  not  told  Katherine,  and  he  understood! 

Tears  filled  her  eyes — she  turned  away. 

"Honora!" 

"  Yes  ?  I — I  am  so  silly — I  want  to  go  home  now — 
I  shall  have  got  over  my  silliness  by  the  time  you  get 
back — but  I  feel  so — so " 

"Honora!" 


"Honora!" 


"  Honora — come  back !  " 

She  hesitated — then  came  back — right  into  his  arms ! 

To-be-kissed-inrthe-hush-of-the-woods! 


CHAPTER    XII 

BUT  Bernard  did  not  kiss  her  at  once.  He  just  held 
her  close,  looking  deeply  into  her  shamed  eyes. 

"  You  are  lovely — you  are  lovely,"  he  murmured, 
scarcely  loud  enough  for  her  to  hear. 

Then  gradually  Honora  felt  his  unswerving  gaze 
was  drawing  the  shame  out  of  her  eyes  and  out  of  her 
heart. 

She  looked  at  him  now,  steadily,  as  he  looked  at  her 
— and  the  cool  words  seemed  filled  with  fire. 

Almost  voluntarily  she  moved  the  fraction  of  an 
inch  closer  towards  him — then  came  the  kiss. 

Unconsciously  Honora  closed  her  eyes — she  was  in 
dreamland,  in  dreamland,  with  a  man's  mouth  upon  her 
own. 

"Look  at  me!" 

For  a  second  the  kiss  was  broken  by  a  command. 

She  must  look  at  him ! 

Her  eyes  opened  and  found  two  grey-blue  fireballs 
almost  on  a  level  with  her  own. 

It  was  a  kiss  of  the  lips,  and  a  kiss  of  the  eyes,  which 
must  end — God!  where  could  be  the  ending  of  such  a 
kiss? 

Surely -down  in  Hades  with  Paolo  and  Francesca! — 
or  might  it  be  that  Dante's  Beatrice  would  in  the  end 
call  it  back  to  Heaven? 

98 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  99 

When  at  last  Bernard's  lips  left  her  own,  Honora 
felt  that  all  of  her  life  must  have  been  lived.  There 
could  be  nothing  else  to  experience,  to  realise,  to  feel. 

"  Sit  down,"  whispered  Bernard,  almost  as  though 
he  feared  tree-birds  might  hear.  Honora  slid  down 
upon  the  fallen  leaves.  For  the  time  being  now  her 
will  was  only  his  will.  "  Lie  down — right  down — as  I 
first  saw  you !  " 

She  wanted  to  refuse,  but  it  was  not  possible. 

Her  dark  head  fell  backward — she  was  looking 
straight  up  at  the  green  canopy  through  which  filtered 
streaks  of  gold  sunlight  and  flecks  of  blue  sky. 

Bernard  knelt  by  her  side  and  kissed  the  hand  she 
had  kissed. 

"  My  darling !     My  darling !  "  he  cried. 

And  Honora  understood — he  was  making  up  to  her 
for  all  the  loneliness  which  had  been ! 

She  smiled  up  at  him  and  innocence  came  back  to  her 
face,  while  his  unmoral  mouth  grew  almost  good  with 
tenderness. 

"  I  love  you  so  much,  Honora — I  love  you,  dear," 
he  said  gently,  sinking  down  on  the  fallen  leaves  by  her 
side  and  slipping  one  arm  between  her  head  and  the 
ground. 

"  Do  you  ?  Perhaps  you  only  think  you  do,"  she 
replied.  The  woman-coquette  within  her  was  waking 
now  that  passion  was  temporarily  lulled  to  rest. 

"How  can  it  be  possible  that  I  don't  know?  How 
can  it  be  possible  that  you  don't  know  ?  " 

"Why  should  I  know?" 


100  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  Have  I  not  kissed  you,  and  don't  they  say  that  a 
woman  never  remains  in  doubt  as  to  the  intensity  of 
a  man's  feelings  when  once  he  has  kissed  her  ?  " 

Honora  shook  her  head,  and  then  rested  one  cheek 
against  the  sleeve  of  his  coat,  as  though  the  contact 
was  grateful. 

"  A  kiss  means  nothing ! "  she  answered  sadly. 
"  Isn't  it  supposed  that  a  kiss  on  the  brow  means  rev- 
erence, on  the  cheek  tenderness,  and  on  the  lips — love? 
How  could  that  be  when  practically  every  stolen  kiss 
is  laid  upon  the  lips?  Does  the  suburban  partner — 
enlivened  by  cheap  champagne — ever  kiss  the  girl 
whom  he  takes  into  the  conservatory  anywhere  except 
on  the  lips?  Yet  who  would  call  that  love?  Do  not 
men  kiss  women  who — who — are  not  good — whom  they 
may  never  see  again — upon  the  lips?  They  can't  love 
them!  " 

"  Some  men  may — not  those  who  possess  any  imagi- 
nation. A  decent  white  man  may — may  take  a  loose 
woman  at  the  valuation  which  she  places  upon  herself 
— this  is,  unfortunately,  a  decree  of  nature — but  only 
an  inartistic  beast  will  kiss  her." 

Honora  nodded.  It  was  curious  that  she  felt  no 
sense  of  embarrassment  in  thus  discussing  quite  "  im- 
proper " — oh,  that  awful  word! — subjects  with  Ber- 
nard Benstead. 

He  was  absolutely  a  man,  a  lustful,  sensual  man, 
perhaps,  but  one  entirely  without  a  suggestion  of 
coarseness  in  his  moral  make-up — and  so  long  as  even 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  101 

hidden  coarseness  is  absent,  there  can  be  no  "  impro- 
priety." 

Men  and  women  were  not  meant  to  skirt  around  nat- 
ural subjects  as  though  life-long  penance  could  be 
incurred  by  the  mention  of  some  erring  mother  who 
might  not  happen  to  be  a  wife ! 

Half  the  world's  immorality  comes  from  its  pre- 
tences and  concealments,  and  generally  those  who  con- 
ceal and  pretend  the  most  are  the  most  inherently 
immoral. 

"  I  have  always  thought — ever  since  I  thought  about 
such  things  at  all — that  love,  real  love,  ought  to  have 
some  rites  exclusively  its  own,"  continued  Honora. 
"  If  only  kisses  could  be  sacred  to  real  love,  how  beauti- 
ful they  would  be !  " 

Bernard  bent  over  and  touched  her  mouth. 

"  Try  to  think  they  are — for  us!  "  he  murmured. 

She  looked  up  into  his  eyes — they  were  holding  her 
own  again. 

"Tell  me,  darling,  how  can  a  woman  know  if  a  man 
loves  her?  How  can  I  make  you  know  that  I  love  you 
intensely  and  absolutely  ?  " 

"  I — I  have  always  thought  that  only  time  proves 
love — in  fact,  it  must  be  so." 

"Why?" 

"  Marriage  and  unions  which  are  not  marriage  evi- 
dence that.  There  is  nothing  but  ardour,  tenderness, 
happiness  in  the  beginning,  but  after  five  years  every- 
thing has  gone !  That  was  never  love." 


102  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  Then  must  people — must  tee — live  to  be  dodder- 
ing and  silver-haired  before  love  is  an  accepted  fact? 
Must  all  youth's  rapture  be  enjoyed  with  caution  and 
suspicion,  each  one  wondering  of  the  other,  *  /*  this 
real  or  make-believe  '?  " 

"  No,  no,  of  course  not  that — but — but Oh !  I 

don't  know  what  I  think!  I've  been  all  alone  here  so 
long  that  perhaps  I've  evolved  all  sorts  of  theories 
which  are  not  sound;  perhaps  I  don't  under- 
stand  " 

"  Never  mind  theories,  little  girl ;  never  mind  about 
understanding  anything — just  put  both  arms  around 
my  neck  and  accept  facts !  " 

She  obeyed.  It  was  happiness  to  put  both  arms 
round  his  neck,  even  as  that  common  girl  behind  the 
hillock  had  put  both  arms  round  her  lover's  neck. 

"  Is  it  all  right  now  ?  Do  you  believe  that  I  love  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  Berr,  I'll— I'll  believe  it!" 

"  Do  you  feel  it?  " 

"  Yes,  I  feel  it !  "  She  was  cooling  her  cheek  against 
his  collar  now,  just  as  she  had  dreamed  of  cooling  her 
cheek  against  the  Right  Man's  collar ! 

"  And  do  you  love  me  ?  " 

'*  I  do  love  you — oh,  yes ! " 

"  Then  there  is  only  our  wedding-day  to  settle ! " 

Honora's  arms  relaxed  and  fell  to  her  sides.  There 
was  dazed  horror  in  her  eyes.  She  lifted  her  head 
from  the  loose  flannel  coat  sleeve  and  half  sat  up. 

"  Don't — don't  let's  spoil  the  situation  by — by  flip- 
pancies," she  said  in  a  strained,  unnatural  voice. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  103 

"What  do  you  mean  by  flippancies,  my  little  girl?  " 
There  was  no  acute  surprise  in  Bernard's  manner.  It 
almost  seemed  as  though  he  were  half  prepared  for  her 
reception  of  his  definite  proposal. 

"  I — I  mean  when  two  people  are  happy  in  an  idyllic 
fl-flirtation  it  seems  such  a  pity " 

Honora  halted  and  Bernard  made  no  attempt  to 
finish  the  sentence  for  her.  His  face  was  quite  expres- 
sionless— nearly  polite. 

Honora  rose  to  her  feet  and  brushed  away  the 
bruised  dahlia  petals  which  had  stained  her  cream 
gown  with  crimson. 

"  We — I — must  be  getting  home,"  she  said,  turning 
irresolutely  away. 

Bernard  watched  her  walk  a  few  steps;  then  he 
lunged  forward  and  closed  his  arms  about  her.  But 
this  time  the  pressure  was  an  imprisonment,  not  an  em- 
brace. 

"  I  must  understand  this  situation — understand  it 
thoroughly,"  he  said.  "  All  the  rites  of  a  passionate 
betrothal  have  been  performed  by  us.  I  have  told  you 
of  my  endless,  passionate  love;  you  have  confessed  to 
a  return  of  that  love — there  have  been  wonderful 
kisses — kisses  that  would  make  a  mark  in  the  life  of  a 
professional  roue — yet  when  I  speak  of  our  wedding- 
day,  you  tell  me  not  to  spoil  the  situation  by  flippan- 
cies, and  you  speak  of  an  idyllic  flirtation.  What  does 
this  mean,  Honora?  That  you  refuse  to  become  my 
wife?" 

"  Yes,   that — is — what  it  means !  " 


104  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

She  spoke  almost  sullenly,  and  her  face  was  momen- 
tarily bereft  of  its  charms. 

"  I  see.    Yet  you  do  love  me? — you  were  not  lying?" 

"  No,  I  was  not  lying." 

Bernard  smiled.  So  long  as  a  woman  loved,  sur- 
render of  some  sort  was  inevitable. 

"  And  you  will  not  marry  me  ?  " 

"I  have  told  you  so!" — and  she  jerked  petulantly 
at  his  restraining  arm. 

"  Then  how  are  things  to  be  with  us  ?  Do  you  wish 
me  to  go  away  immediately  ?  " 

Agony  entered  her  eyes,  and  he  saw  it  with  triumph 
at  his  semi-brutal  man's  heart. 

"  Oh,  no ! — there  is  no  need  for  you  to  go— yet. 
Katherine  wants  you  with  her,  and — and " 

"And  you?"  " 

"  No — I  don't  want  you  to  go !  " 

"  Then  what  are  we  to  be  to  each  other?  " 

Honora  looked  at  him  imploringly.  There  was  a 
hunted  expression  in  her  eyes,  and  appeal  for  mercy — 
but  the  man  who  loved  was  merciless. 

"  What  are  we  to  be  to  each  other — acquaintance* 
or  lovers  ?  " 

*  Let  us  just— drift !" 

Bernard  laughed — not  quite  a  nice  laugh. 

"Women  are  very  great  on  drifting,"  he  replied, 
"  but  it  doesn't  quite  suit  a  man  who  feels  as  I  feel ! 
Shall  we  be  lovers?" 

"  Yes — lovers — lovers!  "  The  word  was  vague, 
divine.  She  lingered  over  the  saying  of  it.  So  much 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  105 

was  meant  by  "  lovers  " — so  much  that  is  comfortable, 
satisfactory  rapture  for  the  naturally  moral  young 
woman,  and  torture  for  the  naturally  immoral  young 
man. 

"  You  understand  what  I  mean  by  lovers,  Honora?  " 

She  looked  up  at  him ;  then  a  hot  flush  spread  over 
all  her  face. 

"  Remember,"  he  went  on,  speaking  rapidly  and 
slurringly  like  Katherine  spoke,  "  it  is  not  my  wish 
that  there  should  be  any  unrecognised  lie  between  us. 
I  want  you  for  my  wife,  but  if  you  refuse,  some  other 
plan  must  be  arranged.  When  a  human  man — a  very 
human  man,  I  may  remark — and  a  human  woman — a 
singularly  inhuman  woman ! — love  each  other,  and  feel 
that  separation  is  not  pleasant  to  contemplate,  noth- 
ing but  what  I  suggest  is  possible.  Honora,  Honora, 
my  darling,  my  lovely  love,  tell  me — tell  me " 

"  Oh!  "  Just  that  one  feminine  moan  of  mental 
agony  was  wrung  from  her  lips. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do — I  don't  know  what  to 
do !  "  she  cried  wildly.  "  Give  me  time — let  me  think — 
let " 

"  Honora-a-a !    Berr-r-r-r ! !  " 

It  was  Katherine's  voice !  Heaven  be  thanked,  it 
was  Katherine's  voice! 

Honora  broke  from  her  relentless  imprisonment  and 
ran  through  the  trees. 

Katherine — short-skirted,  perfect-waisted,  and  very 
smart — was  standing  there  with  an  imp's  smile  on  her 
lip-salved  mouth, 


106  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  I  got  tired  of  thinking  about  my  money,  so  came 
to  see  if  you  found  Berr  too  utterly  boring  for 
words !  "  she  said. 

Then  she  looked  at  Honora's  face — and  grinned  as 
she  knelt  down  to  tie  a  shoe  lace  that  wasn't  undone. 

Less  cute  people  mightn't  have  guessed,  but  Mrs. 
Orlitson  knew! 


CHAPTER    XIII 

AFTER  a  moment  Bernard  joined  them,  his  whole  de- 
meanour showing  a  most  reprehensible  lack  of  embar- 
rassment. 

"  Miss  Vayne  got  terribly  tired  of  me,"  he  said  with 
an  easy  smile.  "  So  tired  that  she's  been  talking 
theories  to  me.  I  enjoyed  it,  but  I  always  know  that 
when  a  woman  talks  theories  to  a  man  it's  because  his 
personality  don't  inspire  her  to  be  more  intimately 
friendly!" 

Katherine  glanced  at  Honora,  who  was  examining 
the  future  possibilities  of  a  blackberry  bush ;  then  she 
glanced  at  her  brother  and  deliberately  lowered  her 
left  lid  over  her  left  eye. 

Bernard  appreciated  the  wink  and  roared  with 
laughter. 

"  You  and  I  come  of  a  damned  artful  stock,  Kit," 
he  remarked  as  Honora  became  more  engrossed  with  a 
still  more  distant  blackberry  bush.  "  We  could  take 
in  everybody  else,  but  I'm  dashed  if  we  could  take  each 
other  in.  You  always  know  what  I'm  up  to,  and  I 
always  know  what  you're  up  to ! " 

"  Of  course  you  do,  mon  frere,"  replied  Katherine 
amusedly.  "  If  your  poor,  scraggy,  red-haired  wid- 
owed sister  tried  to  take  you  in  she  couldn't  manage  it 
for  almond  toffee !  Regrettable,  but  true !  "  And  with 
this  Mrs.  Orlitson  turned  her  back  before  once  more 

107 


108  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

lowering  that  left  lid  over  that  left  eye  and  stretching 
her  lip-salved  mouth  into  another  brief  grin. 

These  facial  contortions  were  private,  and  solely 
performed  for  her  own  satisfaction. 

A  second  later  she  turned  round. 

"  Honora !  Honora !  Never  mind  the  blackberries  ! 
They'll  *  black '  just  as  quickly  if  you  leave  them 
alone !  Berr  says  you've  been  talking  theories  to  him, 
so  do  come  home  and  give  the  poor  soul  some  supper 
by  way  of  recompense ! " 

Honora  hesitated  one  instant,  as  though  she  were 
gathering  together  some  unseen  forces  of  moral  en- 
ergy, then  walked  slowly  towards  them,  her  face  bereft 
of  its  beautifying  flush. 

She  looked  nearly  unattractive. 

"  So  sorry  I've  been  prosy,"  she  said  wearily,  "  but 
when  I  find  a  person  who'll  let  me  talk  without  spoil- 
ing my  flow  of  eloquence  by  punctuating  remarks,  I'm 
afraid  that  person  has  a  poor  time  of  it.  Mr.  Ben- 
stead  and  I  have  been  talking  about  love ! " 

Katherine  looked  at  her  with  the  true  appreciating 
admiration  which  one  woman  dissembler  feels  for  an- 
other woman  dissembler,  while  Bernard  flushed. 

He  had  meant  to  adopt  the  audacity  pose,  but  ac- 
tually this  young,  tall  dark  girl  whose  lips  had  almost 
eagerly  returned  the  pressure  of  his  was  calmly  bring- 
ing his  own  tactics  into  his  own  camp. 

Like  a  man,  he  resented  her  pluck. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Honora  calmly,  as  they  ceased 
lagging  and  began  to  walk.  "  I  was  telling  Mr.  Ben- 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  109 

stead  that,  in  my  opinion,  love  isn't  love  till  it  has  been 
proved  by  time.  Nearly  all  young  married  couples 
think  they  are  in  love,  and  more  than  half  the  middle- 
aged  ones  know  they  aren't — but  I  won't  inflict  your 
unfortunate  brother  all  over  again.  He  has  heard 
quite  enough  of  my  erotic  theories — give  us  some  of 
yours,  Katherine." 

"  I  don't  think  love  plays  any  very  important  part 
in  most  schemes  of  existence,"  Mrs.  Orlitson  answered 
more  seriously  than  it  was  her  custom  to  speak.  "  At 
least,  not  with  women  who  have  been  bothered  by  finan- 
cial anxieties.  There's  nothing  like  tight  money  cor- 
ners for  cramping  a  large  heart.  How  can  a  woman 
lie  with  romantic  abandon  on  a  man's  breast  when  she's 
looking  at  his  frayed  collar  and  wondering  where  he'll 
get  funds  to  buy  new  ones  with?  No,  I  do  think  a 
woman  wants  a  man's  companionship,  his  humour,  the 
mental  friction  of  his  mind,  his  '  palliness,'  but  I  don't 
think  love  is  such  a  desperately  necessary  adjunct  as 
people  like  to  imagine !  " 

"  Poor  little  Kit ! "  murmured  Bernard  compassion- 
ately, thrusting  one  big  hand  through  his  sister's  arm, 
wondering  as  he  did  so  what  had  been  the  details  of 
Katherine's  married  life.  "  Was  Roger  a  good  sort?  " 
he  added  inconsequently — but  the  instant  that  question 
was  put  he  realised  the  betise  of  asking  a  widow  of 
four  months'  standing,  and  in  the  presence  of  a  third 
person,  if  her  husband  had  been  a  good  sort. 

But  Katherine  was  beautifully  unembarrassed. 

"  Yes,  he  was,  really  he  was ! "  she  answered  affec- 


110  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

tionately.  "  Poor  dear,  he  was  very  selfish,  very  lazy, 
and  very  extravagant,  but  the  nicest,  sweetest, 
gentlest,  dearest  thing  possible  to  imagine.  The  idea 
of  any  husband  different  to  Roger  wouldn't  fit  with 
my  views,  although  when  we — when  he  was  alive  I  used 
to  nag  and  worry  the  poor  boy  from  morning  to  night. 
I  was  a  nagging  woman,  Berr ! " 

"  Were  you,  Kit? — then  perhaps  the  poor  chap  is 
better  out  of  it,  after  all !  "  responded  Bernard,  in 
tones  which  betrayed  deep,  staunch  sympathy  for  the 
unknown  dead  brother-in-law. 

"  Do  you  miss  your  husband  very  much  ? "  broke 
in  Honora.  She  had  often  wondered  about  this,  and 
the  present  occasion  seemed  to  make  it  permissible  to 
ask. 

Katherine  turned  towards  her  as  though  really 
pleased  to  discuss  the  subject. 

"  Your  nice  companionableness  keeps  me  from  miss- 
ing anything  or  anybody  to  an  acute  degree,"  she 
answered ;  "  but  yet  I  must  confess  to  wanting  Roger 
much  more  than  I  ever  imagined  I  should  want  him. 
When  we  were  first  parted — immediately  after  his 
death — I  felt  almost — it  sounds  a  vile  thing  to  say — 
sort  of  relieved !  Things  had  been  so  difficult,  you 
know,  for  us  both !  But  now  there  are  times  when  I'd 
give  anything  to  find  one  of  his  uncorked  brilliantine 
bottles — Roger  never  put  in  corks ! — exuding  over  the 
floor,  or  to  discover  that  he'd  taken  my  new  crepe  de 
Chine  scarf  to  polish  his  tan  boots  with!  He  was  a 
nice  thing  in  his  own  way — poor  dear !  " 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  111 

"  Good-looking  chap,  was  he?  "  enquired  Bernard, 
realising  that  it  was  not  in  the  least  tactless  to  ques- 
tion his  sister  on  subjects  appertaining  to  her  widow- 
hood. Until  this  moment  he  had  felt  all  a  large  man's 
natural  reticence  in  touching  upon  delicate  emotional 
details,  but  now  that  the  ice  had  become  broken  in  this 
unexpected  fashion,  he  was  glad  to  ask  what  he  wanted 
to  know. 

"  Yes,  not  a  bit  bad  without  his  beard.  When  we 
first  met  he  was  very  hairy — had  been  so  ever  since 
hairiness  became  possible — then  much  later  on  I  got 
him  to  shave  it  off.  But  eventually  he  got  too  lazy  to 
shave,  too  hard-up  to  buy  soap-sticks,  and  too  well 
known  in  the  sample  world  to  secure  any  for  the  price 
of  a  penny  stamp,  so  the  beard  came  back  again  in  full 
force — poor  dear!  But  I  don't  like  them,  do  you, 
Honora?" 

"  /  hate  bearded  men!  " 

Honora's  vehemence  was  so  startling  and  so  intense 
that  both  Bernard  and  Katherine  glanced  at  her  in 
astonishment. 

"  My  dear  old  girl,  anyone  would  think  you'd  been 
forced  to  kiss  a  beard,  and  hadn't  liked  it ! "  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Orlitson. 

Honora  smiled  automatically. 

"  I  am  very  positive  where  my  likes  and  dislikes  are 
concerned — I'm  sorry,  for  it's  vulgar  to  be  positive, 
and — oh!  excuse  me "  She  broke  off,  as  on  turn- 
ing down  the  rutted  entrance  road  the  figure  of  a  burly 
labourer  became  visible.  "  There's  Welter,  from 


THE     WILD     WIDOW 

Transley,  waiting  to  see  me  about  the  mushrooms.  I 
must  speak  to  him !  "  And  without  further  explana- 
tion the  girl  who  had  been  kissed  in  the  hush  of  the 
woods  darted  off  to  discuss  autumn  possibilities  for 
the  storage  of  mushrooms. 

"  Bernard ! " 

"Kits?" 

"  The  story  of  Honora  Vayne's  past  turns  on  a 
beard!" 

"  Don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself,  my  dear  girl ! " 

After  these  four  brief  remarks  Katherine  spoke 
again. 

"  Sorry  to  hurt  your  feelings,  dear  boy,  but  no 
woman  ever  grows  red  and  white  about  a  beard  unless, 
in  the  past,  she  has  been  brought  into  disagreeable 
contact  with  one.  That's  it! — depend  upon  it. 
Honora  Vayne's  past  is  a  beard." 

"  Why  do  you  so  doggedly  insist  that  this  unfortu- 
nate young  woman  is  burdened  with  a  past?  There's 
really  no  need  to  be  so  confoundedly  sure  upon  the 
subject! " 

"  Don't  be  an  ass — goat — dolt,  Berr !  Of  course 
she's  got  a  past!  What's  she  here  for,  alone,  manless, 
and  lovely " 

"  My  dear  girl,  you  are  alone,  manless,  and — well, 
you  aren't  lovely,  but  your  figure's  good — yet  no  one 
insists  you've  got  a  past.  Suppose  people  began  sug- 
gesting you  had  murdered  your  husband,  or  something 
of  the  sort,  just  because  you  hadn't  happened  to  have 
spouted  out  your  whole  history?  You're  just  as 


THE     WILD    WIDOW  113 

likely — more  so,  perhaps — to  have  a  past  as  Ho- 
nora ! " 

Two  light  grey  eyes  flashed  a  swift,  searching  glance 
into  this  large  man's  bronzed  face,  but  an  instant  later 
they  closed,  as  usual,  into  a  couple  of  dark-fringed 
slits. 

Bernard's  face  had  evidenced  nothing  beyond  annoy- 
ance. 

"  It's  no  good  getting  shirty,  my  large  brother, 
just  because  you've  fallen  in  love  with  my  attractive- 
farmeress-landlady.  I'm  quite  as  keen  on  Honora — in 
a  different  way ! — as  you  are,  but  that  doesn't  blind 
me  to  facts.  When  are  you  going  to  be  married  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all !  " 

"  Haven't  you  asked  her? — she  looked  as  if  you 
had." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  asked  her." 

"  And  she  refused  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  refused." 

"Yet  the  girl's  uncomfortably  much  in  love  with 
you!  Proof  positive!  A  past!"  And  with  this  Mrs. 
Orlitson  broke  into  a  run,  leaving  her  brother  some- 
what of  the  opinion  that  a  world  without  women  would 
be  a  better  place! 

During  supper  these  three  people,  who  were  all  more 
or  less  poignantly  affected  by  each  other's  presence, 
discussed  agriculture,  gored  skirts,  hurdle-racing, 
American  cocktails,  and  other  matters  not  vitally  im- 
portant so  far  as  they  were  concerned ;  and  it  was  only 
when  Katherine  left  the  room  in  order  to  take  her  iron 


114  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

tonic  that  Honora  and  Bernard  found  themselves 
alone. 

The  oil  lamp  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  table  burnt 
low,  and  Honora  stood  at  the  window  watching  the 
feverish  hurrying  of  a  white  harvest  moon. 

She  knew  that  he  and  she  were  alone,  but  made  no 
sign  till  an  arm  stole  around  her  shoulders  and  a  man's 
mouth  touched  her  throat. 

She  leaned  back  against  him,  glad  for  their  love-story 
to  be  continued,  as  she  had  been  glad  for  it  to  be 
interrupted. 

"  Are  we  lovers,  Honora ;  are  we  lovers  ?  "  he  whis- 
pered. 

She  comprehended  his  meaning  now,  and  her  limbs 
grew  hot.  She  recalled  the  common  girl  who  sat  be- 
neath the  shelter  of  the  hillock. 

"  Honora — you  must  tell  me ! " 

A  scarlet  longing  seized  her,  and  the  old-maidish 
caution  in  her  nature,  of  which  she  had  spoken  to 
Katherine,  became  absorbed  in  one  great  desire. 

She  loved  this  man ;  she  had  been  hideously,  danger- 
ously lonely 

"  Yes — we — are — lovers ! "  she  whispered. 

His  head  dropped  lower,  and  in  the  moonlight  his 
eyes  found  hers. 

"  My  darling,  my  darling ! "  he  said ;  and  from  the 
white  warmth  of  her  throat  his  lips  moved  up  to  the 
red  warmth  of  her  mouth.  "  To-night,"  he  whispered, 
"  to-night!  " 

The   next   instant   Katherine   returned,   her   quaint 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  115 

white  face  puckered  up  in  recollection  of  the  black 
bitter  fluid  which  had  just  passed  her  lips. 

"  Ugh !  I've  taken  enough  iron  in  my  lif e  to  make 
all  the  fenders  in  all  the  happy  homes  of  England! 
I'm  sure  I  must  be  a  descendant  of  the  Iron  Duke! 
Her  Grace,  the  Iron  Duchess!  That's  me!  Now,  are 
we  cut-throat  bridging  to-night?  " 

Honora  eagerly  answered  that  they  were,  and  Ber- 
nard got  out  the  cards. 

Rubber  after  rubber  they  played,  till  at  last  when 
Katherine  had  lost  four  shillings  and  sevenpence,  she 
threw  down  the  cards  and  yawned  a  more  or  less  polite 
yawn. 

"  Can't  play  any  longer ! — my  bed's  calling  to  me ! " 
she  exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  let's — let's  have  one  more ! "  urged  Honora, 
feverishly  commencing  to  reshuffle  the  cards. 

"  My  dear  kid,  you  are  usually  the  slacker — why 
such  keenness  to-night?  "  demanded  Katherine. 

"  B — because  I  really  do  want  to — play  better,  and 
nothing  but  practice  will  teach  me !" 

"  You  play  perfectly — the  way  you  lead  up  to  your 
opponents'  strength  is  masterly ! "  replied  Bernard 
rudely — that  particular  brand  of  rudeness  which  a  man 
only  gives  to  the  woman  he  loves  much  more  than  he 
has  ever  loved  any  other  woman. 

Honora  laughed  without  knowing  exactly  what  she 
was  laughing  at.  She  had  scarcely  heard  what  he  said, 
and  only  knew  she  ought  to  smile  because  Katherine 
was  smiling. 


116  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  No,  my  dear,  I'm  not  going  to  lose  any  more  of 
my  hardly-earned  fortune  to-night ! "  said  Mrs.  Or- 
litson,  decisively,  as  she  rose  and  stood,  thin,  smart,  and 
black-gowned  before  them.  "  You  can  play  double 
dummy  if  you  like " 

"  No,  no,  we  don't  like,"  interrupted  Honora. 
"  Double  dummy  is  too — too  candid  a  game !  Highly 
conscientious  and  beautifully  without  deception — but 
slow ! " 

"  Like  me !  Beautiful  without  deception — but  slow ! 
An  exact  description  of  K.  O.,  who,  from  henceforth, 
shall  regard  herself  as  a  Double  Dummy.  Good-night, 
dear  kids ! "  Katherine  affectionately  tugged  at  Ho- 
nora's  ear.  "  Nighty-nighty,  Berr — or  are  you  coming 
up  to  sit  on  the  doormat  and  talk  while  I  brush  my 
vermilion  locks  ?  " 

"  I'll  see  you  as  far  as  the  doormat  anyway,"  an- 
swered Bernard  lazily.  "  Good-night,  Miss  Vayne, 
and  thanks  for  the  game.  You'd  make  a  first-class 
player  if  only  you  weren't  so  cautious  with  your  declara- 
tions !  Good-night ! " 

"  Good-night !  "  echoed  Honora  mechanically.  She 
spoke  only  with  her  lips.  The  language  of  her  eyes 
was  obscured. 

When  they  had  left  the  room  and  ascended  the  stairs, 
Honora  closed  and  locked  the  long  French  windows, 
put  away  the  cards,  and  blew  out  the  lamp. 

Then  she  waited  in  absolute  silence,  lightly  pressing 
one  hand  against  the  pulses  of  her  throat,  which  seemed 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  117 

drumming  right  into  her  head  and  obscuring  other 
sounds. 

She  wanted  to  listen. 

They  were  talking  still — she  could  hear  Katherine's 
endless  ripple  of  unpunctuated  laughing  chatter,  oc- 
casionally broken  by  a  low  careless,  masculine  laugh. 
How  could  he  laugh  when — when  he  had  said — "  To- 
noight!  " 

"  To-night — to-noight!  "  Honora  found  herself  re- 
peating the  word  again  and  again,  till  the  Fullgarney 
accent  fascinated  her. 

"  To-noight!  "  She  might  be  rehearsing  for  an 
amateur  performance  of  "  The  Gay  Lord  Quex." 

"  To-noight!  " 

Now  it  was  to-night  and — and 

Ah,  the  unpunctuated  laughter  had  ceased — the  click 
of  a  door — Katherine's  door  clicked — the  squeak  of  a 
door — Bernard's  door  squeaked — the  bang  of  a  door — 
Bernard's  door  banged. 

Silence — silence — silence ! 


CHAPTER     XIV 

YES,  the  silence  was  continuous! 

Heaven  be  thanked!  "To-noight"  meant  nothing- 
yet — yet 

Tightly  Honora  gathered  her  cream  skirts,  raising 
them  above  her  ankles  and  drawing  them  in  a  bunch 
to  the  front,  so  that  not  a  swish  or  rustle  would  be 
audible  as  she  ascended  the  stairs.  Then  the  low- 
heeled  bronze  shoes  were  discarded,  and  out  of  the 
moonlit  room  she  stepped  into  the  dark  passage. 

Bernard's  door  was  shut — she  would  be  able  to 
reach  her  own  room  without  a  sound,  able  to  lock 
the  door,  and  to  escape  the  rapture  of — "  to-noight!  " 

Up  the  solidly-built,  creakless  stairs,  on  to  the  first 
landing — up  one  more  little  flight — to  her  own  rooms, 

"  Ah-h-h!  " 

The  exclamation  was  hardly  more  than  a  breath,  but 
for  a  second  Honora  must  have  lost  consciousness  as, 
from  out  the  darkness  of  a  recess,  two  arms  were 
stretched — two  arms  which  held  her  close. 

"  We  are  lovers,  dearest,  lovers !  "  Bernard  whispered 
in  her  ear.  "We  shall  never  be  anything  else — you 

belong  to  me — you  are  mine "  They  were  getting 

nearer  to  her  door — nearer.  "  And  you  shall  be  my 

118 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  119 

wife — you  mil  be  my  wife  when  we  are  lovers — you 
won't  shy  at  marriage  ties  and  conventions  any  longer 
then,  because  you  will  understand  that  it  must  be  for 
ever — for  always!  Sweetest  heart — "  They  were  on 

the  threshold  now — in  another  second "My  little 

girl! — call  me  to  you,  Honora — just  say  *  Come,'  dear 
— go  in,  darling,  and  call  me — a  man  wants  to  be 
called " 

She  slipped  from  his  embrace,  half  swayed  across 
the  threshold,  held  out  her  arms  for  one  second,  then — 
shut  the  door  and  turned  the  key! 

The  action  was  characteristic  of  the  woman,  and  she 
knew  it — but  it  had  to  be! 

Honora  had  said  that  she  could  never  be  entirely  any- 
thing, and  that  self -analysis  was  in  a  measure  correct. 

She  hadn't  strength  to  be  entirely  rigorously  moral, 
nor  the  strength  to  be  entirely  bravely  immoral. 

She.  had  the  strength  to  love,  but  failed  when  it  came 
to  making  a  supreme  sacrifice  for  that  love's  sake. 

She  didn't  possess  sufficient  Spartan  grit  to  stifle 
woman's  natural  longings,  to  the  extent  of  renouncing 
kisses  which  could  only  lead  the  kissers  down  one  in- 
evitable road;  yet  when  it  came  to  treading  that  high- 
way of  sultry  shadows  and  deep  pitfalls,  she  turned 
renegade  and  broke  her  faith. 

No  good,  excellent  person  could  say  that  Honora 
Vayne  was  not  acting  precisely  as  a  well-brought-up 
young  woman  should  act  when  she  shut  and  locked  her 
bedroom  door ;  yet  there  are  individuals — shocking,  un- 
visitable  people  these! — who  might  aver  that  Bernard 


120  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

Benstead's  beloved  was  actually  more  contemptible  in 
her  virtuous  caution  than  she  would  have  been  if— 
well,  if  she  had  not  shut  the  door. 

In  perfect  silence  Honora  crouched  down  upon  the 
floor. 

Would  he  knock? 

Indefinitely  she  thrust  out  h  r  hand  towards  the  key 
— then  drew  it  back  again. 

If  he  did  knock 

Ah!  sounds! — slow,  easy,  quiet  sounds!  The  foot- 
steps of  large  feet — along  the  passage — down,  down, 
down  the  little  flight  of  stairs — a  squeak — Bernard's 
door  squeaked — a  bang — Bernard's  door  banged 

The  incident  was  over ! 

Dazed  and  trembling  Honora  slowly  rose  from  her 
crouching  position  and  turned  on  the  gas,  which  is  a 
hideous  light  to  illumine  moments  of  emotions. 

Honora  caught  sight  of  her  face  in  the  glass — it 
w&s  livid,  and  her  eyes  looked  too  large. 

"  I  am  glad,  I  am  glad  I  had  the  strength,"  she 
murmured.  "  I  must  have  been  half  mad  to  almost 
promise,  yet — yet " 

Once  more  the  dreary  loneliness  "of  the  past  year 
seemed  to  fill  the  whole  room,  and  involuntarily  Ho- 
nora glanced  towards  the  locked  door. 

"  Must  it  be  always  like  this  ?  "  she  whispered,  slowly 
unfastening  hooks  and  removing  pins  till  the  cream 
cambric  frock  fell  to  the  ground,  leaving  exposed  the 
mournful  figure  of  a  young  woman  wearing  a  white 
petticoat,  and  pink  corsets  left  open  two  inches  at  the 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  121 

waist.  "  Must  I  leave  love  alone  for  ever  and  ever — 
unless  I  am  brave  enough  not — not  to  lock  my  door? 
What  am  I  to  do? — what  shall  I  do  with  my  poor  spoilt 
life  and  myself?  " 

Half  an  hour  later  Honora  was  lying  in  the  cool, 
coarse-sheeted  bed,  trying  to  solve  problems  which  re- 
volved round  the  future. 

She  had  meant  to  behave  so  entirely  differently  to  the 
way  she  was  behaving.  When  she  first  buried  herself  in 
the  safe  seculsion  of  a  Sussex  chicken  farm  it  had  been 
her  intention  to  leave  love  and  romance  entirely  un- 
sought, but  if  those  two  main  elements  of  feminine  exist- 
ence should  ferret  out  and  find  her  hiding-place — why, 
then  she  would  be  pluckily  unscrupulous,  after  the  man- 
ner of  all  famous  history-women  who  have  reduced 
passion  to  a  fine  art  and  illicit  love  to  a  science. 

Life  was  meant  for  love,  and  just  because — be- 
cause  

For  a  second  Honora  threw  a  portion  of  the  sheet 
across  her  face,  and  remembered  that  there  would  be  a 
— to-morrow! 

Though  "  to-noight "  had  been  spoilt  by  old-maidish 
caution  and  conventional  alarms — that  true  white  word 
"  Virtue "  made  no  pretence  of  obtruding  itself  into 
these  mental  arguments — there  would  still  be  to-mor- 
row— to-morrow,  which  could  make  up  for  what  "  to- 
noight  "  had  lost ! 

During  all  those  hours  which  the  big  hall  clock  struck 
between  midnight  and  mid-dawn  Honora  lay  forming  to- 
morrow's plans. 


122  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

Sometimes  she  sat  up  in  bed  and  listened  when  it 
seemed  that  faint,  stealthy  sounds  were  audible,  but  at 
last,  when  the  "  Sussex  rooster "  called  out  "  Good- 
morning"  to  the  world,  to-morrow  was  forgotten  and 
innocence  came  back  with  sleep. 

Soundly,  heavily,  doggedly  Honora  slept,  unheeding 
the  intrusion  of  yellow  sunlight  which  found  unscrupu- 
lous ways  of  entry  round  the  sides  of  the  blind,  till  at 
last  insistent  drumming  on  the  wooden  panels  of  the 
door  hurried  her,  per  express  route,  from  that  safe 
land  of  dreams. 

She  sat  up  in  bed  and  brushed  the  dark  falling  hair 
from  about  her  face. 

Was  this  "  to-noight  "  or — or — to-morrow  ? 

"  Will  you  be  getting  up  to  breakfast,  please,  miss  ? 
It's  nearly  ten  o'clock,"  sounded  Mary  Tryke's  slightly 
severe  voice. 

Then  Honora  remembered — it  was  to-morrow! 

She  leapt  out  of  bed  and  opened  that  locked  door. 

"  Yes — yes — bring  my  bath  water,  please — I'll  be 
down  in  half  an  hour.  I've  had  a  bad  night  and  over- 
slept myself,"  she  replied,  with  a  hint  of  apology  in 
her  voice  which  would  not  have  been  there  in  different 
circumstances. 

It  is  a  certain  fact  that  when  men  or  women  become 
apologetic  to  their  inferiors  they  had  nearly  done  some- 
thing they  oughtn't  to  have  done ! 

Mrs.  Tryke  made  no  response.  For  one  thing  she 
couldn't  have  been  sympathetic  even  if  she  wished,  and 
for  another  she  didn't  wish;  so  without  a  word  she 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  123 

shuffled  down  the  little  flight  of  stairs  connecting  Ho- 
nora's  bedroom  with  the  main  passage. 

Honora  stood  for  a  moment  listening ;  then,  becoming 
conscious  of  the  cold  oilcloth's  uncomfortable  proximity 
to  her  bare  feet,  returned  to  bed. 

She  felt  loth  to  leave  the  safe  shelter  of  her  own  room, 
yet  eager  to  get  up. 

How  would  she  and  Bernard  meet  each  other  and 
greet  each  other? 

How  would  she  ask  him  to  have  a  second  cup  of  coffee, 
or  recommend  the  trial  of  a  great  red  Victoria  plum? 

Yet  it  would  be  stimulating — wildly,  deliciously 
stimulating  not  to  meet  each  other's  eyes,  save  for  a 
stolen  second  when  Honora  was  picking  an  egg  in  her 
specially  absorbing  and  fanciful  manner. 

And  they  would  avoid  each  other  all  day  until — about 
evening  time — a  tete-a-tete  meeting  would  be  inevitable. 

And  then — and  then — well,  Honora  didn't  want  to 
spoil  indefinite  possibilities  by  making  them  inartistic- 
ally  definite. 

Perhaps  she  would  risk  everything  and  promise  to  be- 
come his  wife — or  perhaps  she  would  risk  a  different 
everything,  and  not  make  any  promise. 

Her  extraordinarily  beautiful  eyes  looked  restless, 
eager,  and  half  »glad ;  her  cheeks  were  soft  with  that 
vivid  flush  which  always  made  her  quite  lovely,  and  be- 
neath feather-stitched  tucks  and  Honiton  insertion 
her  gracious  bosom  rose  and  fell  with  expectant 
rapidity. 

She  would  wear  a  loose  white  wrapper  this  morning — 


124  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

one  of  those  she  had  brought  to  the  farm  but  never  un- 
packed. There  was  a  thick  yet  softly-falling  one  of 
butter  muslin,  and  the  flapping  sleeves  were  tied  with 
blue  ribbon. 

It  was  an  infinitely  becoming  garment,  and  she  would 
unpack  it  directly  Mrs.  Tryke  had  brought  the  bath 
water. 

Honora  smiled  joyously.  She  felt  joyous  now,  for 
no  matter  what  had  happened  or  what  might  happen 
again,  they  would  meet  in  less  than  half  an  hour — and 
newly  confessed  love  holds  no  real  alarms  when  there 
will  be  a  meeting  in  half  an  hour. 

And  during  breakfast  how  she  would  pique  him  and 
amaze  him  by  her  display  of  absolutely  unpenetrable 
calm,  cheerfulness,  and  composure! 

He  should  find  her  a  complete  adept  at  love's  public 
deceptions,  while  he  himself  grew  gradually  silent  and  ill 
at  ease. 

Then  when  they  were  alone  she  would  still  keep  up 
the  same  pose  till  an  exasperated  exclamation  left  his 
lips  and  her  hands  were  roughly  seized  and  held. 

It  would  be  the  fascinating  drama  of  a  day,  but  later, 
when  the  sun  began  to  sink,  she  would  confess  to  having 
remembered  last  night — which  would  then  be — "  to- 
noight!  " — and  she  would  then  slip  into  his  arms  to  drift 
— drift — not  to  any  dangerous  whirlpools,  but  just — 
well,  perhaps  he  would  now  be  content  to  go  on  drift- 
ing  

Anyhow,  in  half  an  hour  they  would  meet — they  would 
meet — and 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  125 

"  Tap-tap ! " 

Honora  answered  j  oyously ,  and  the  door  opened — but 
not  to  admit  Mrs.  Tryke  and  the  bath  water. 

It  was  Katherine  who  entered  the  room,  Katherine, 
who  looked  decidedly  cross  and  very  nearly  ugly,  and 
who  carried  a  letter  in  her  hand. 

"  He's  an  idiot!  "  she  ejaculated  snappily. 

"  Who?  "  asked  Honora. 

"  Berr ! " 

"  Berr — your  brother?  " 

"  Yes,  my  confounded  fool  of  a  brother — read  that !  " 

A  paper  was  thrust  into  Honora's  hand,  and  slowly 
she  read  the  pencilled  scrawl  written  by  a  hand  whose 
touch  had  the  power  to  accelerate  every  beat  of  her 
cautious  woman's  heart. 

"  My  dear  Kits, — I'm  off !  Didn't  tell  you  yesterday 
because  I  hate  good-byes — even  pro  tern.  ones.  But  I 
must  go,  so  by  the  time  you  read  this  your  excellent 
brother  will  have  caught  the  8.50  A.  M.  train  to  town, 
which  is  by  way  of  being  a  preliminary  to  crossing  the 
pond  again.  There's  business  I  must  see  to  over  there, 
but  daresay  I  shall  turn  up  again  before  you've  run 
through  all  your  money.  Can't  give  you  any  address, 
but  letters  sent  to  *  The  Conway  Club  '  are  always  liable 
to  reach  me  eventually.  I  enclose  cheque.  Please  settle 
up  with  Miss  Vayne ;  thank  her  for  kindnesses  shown  to 
an  unworthy  '  P  G  '  (don't  insert  an  *  i '),  and  say  that 
my  criticism  on  her  bridge  play  was  faulty.  The  mis- 
take she  makes  is  in  too  rash  declarations,  which  the 
weakness  of  her  hand  often  prevents  her  from  bringing 


126  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

off.    My  best  wishes  to  her,  and  chin-chin  to  your  smart, 
cute  little  self.     Till  we  meet, 

"  Your  affectionate  brother, 

"  BEBE." 

"  Haven't  you  finished  reading  it  yet?  " 
Katherine  put  the  question ;  then  she  looked  round. 
Honora  had  finished  reading. 

She  was  lying  with  her  face  buried  in  the  pillow,  and 
her  shoulders  tremulous  with  sobs. 


CHAPTER   XV 

IT  was  springtime,  and  the  gravely  furnished  maison- 
ette was  an  accomplished  fact. 

The  rent  was  £600  per  annum ;  the  locality  was  Hyde 
Park — OA  Holstein  Mansions,  Hyde  Park — the  dining- 
room — large  enough  to  dine  forty  gourmand* — was 
schemed  in  black,  dull  oak  and  purple,  the  drawing- 
rooms — three,  opening  one  out  of  the  other — were 
reputable  arrangements  of  dull  green-blue,  the  billiard- 
room  was  a  billiard-room,  the  bedrooms  were  all  white, 
and  the  owner's  absolutely  private  sanctum  was  a  tri- 
umph of  bad  taste. 

Every  apartment,  except  the  private  sanctum,  had 
been  entirely  arranged  by  Teddington  &  Co.,  and  they 
had  conscientiously  carried  out  Mrs.  Orlitson's  instruc- 
tions that,  though  money  need  not  be  spared,  immaculate 
taste  and  refinement  were  not  to  be  sacrificed  for  the 
sake  of  evidencing  expenditure. 

Art  treasures  might  be  purchased  with  a  moderately 
free  hand,  but  there  must  be  no  vulgar  display  of 
thousand-guinea  vases  or  huge  expanses  of  costly  carv- 
ing. 

"  If  I'm  left  to  myself  I  shall  make  my  flat  look  like 
an  Earl's  Court  Exhibition,"  Katherine  had  frankly 
avowed  when  giving  the  order,  "  therefore  every  room, 
except  my  own  boudoir,  shall  be  left  entirely  in  your 
hands ! " 

127 


128  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

And  Messrs.  Teddington  had  not  betrayed  their  trust. 
They  had  kept  down  any  tendency  toward  dramatic 
upholstery,  they  had  avoided  the  introduction  of  too 
much  Louis,  and  they  had  even  negotiated  for  the  pur- 
chase of  a  choice  selection  of  suitably  be-stocked  and 
short-waisted  ancestors. 

Mrs.  Orlitson  was  very  pleased  with  these  ancestors 
— which  had  escaped  Christies  and  been  purchased  direct 
from  a  bankrupt  French  nobleman — and  prepared  the 
patter  which  was  to  go  with  each  picture. 

The  simpering  lady  with  the  blue  snood  and  rather 
impossible  bust  was  to  be  great-great-great  Aunt 
Lucille  de  Mornigay,  who,  in  1799,  had  been  practically 
banished  by  Napoleon  because  she  refused  the  guidance 
of  Rostand  to  ascend  that  little  dark  staircase  leading 
from  an  obscure  side  entrance  of  the  imperial  palace  to 
the  Emperor's  private  half-storey  room.  (Katherine 
had  decided  that  the  introduction  of  a  little  moral  French 
blood  might  excuse  any  overdone  flippancies  which  she 
might  not  always  be  able  to  avert.) 

A  stern  gentleman  in  a  somewhat  sombre  uniform  was 
to  be  one  Culff  John  Orlitson,  who  in  1804  had  com- 
mitted suicide  on  account  of  his  unrequited  passion  for 
Nelson's  Emma. 

And  a  couple  of  vacuous-looking  youths  patting  one 
quaintly  formed  hound  were  to  be  respectively  Hugh  and 
Godfrey  Ork^tson — belonging  to  the  days  before  those 
double  "  ee's  "  had  given  place  to  the  more  euphonious 
"  i !  " — who  had  assisted  the  young  Pretender  in  his  final 
flight  back  across  the  Channel. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  129 

Poor  Katherine  had  been  immensely  busy  for  two 
whole  days  in  looking  up  likely  dates  and  fitting  them  in 
with  the  costumes  of  these  purchased  ancestors. 

But  now,  after  a  rather  exhausting  time  poring  over  a 
couple  of  hired  histories,  everything  seemed  in  order. 

"  Aunt  Lucille  " — as  well  as  a  small  prim  child  wear- 
ing very  long  frills  drooping  over  either  leg — was  to 
belong  to  her  late  mother's  family,  from  whence  the  dash 
of  French  blood  would  come.  A  fierce  ruffed  gentleman, 
who  might  have  passed  for  Shakespeare  if  his  melancholy 
had  been  more  pronounced,  was  Robert  Humphrey  Ben- 
stead — a  relative  of  Katherine's  father,  who,  according 
to  family  history — very  private  family  history — was 
supposed  to  have  interfered  with  the  virginity  of  Queen 
Elizabeth's  maids  of  honour. 

These  people  she  appropriated  for  her  own  maternal 
and  paternal  descendants,  but  the  other  she'd  given  to 
her  late  husband's  family. 

As  Katherine  said :  "  Poor  Roger  mustn't  be  left  out 
when  ancestors  are  being  handed  round ! " 

Thus  now  Mrs.  Orlitson  was  ready  to  begin  life  all 
over  again,  to  commence  that  vie  de  luxe  which  patience, 
circumstance,  and  luck  had  secured  for  the  young 
woman  who,  exactly  a  year  ago,  was  bewailing  the  unin- 
spiring inconveniences  of  retrenchment. 

For  exactly  two  days  she  had  been  installed  at  OA 
Holstein  Mansions,  and  now  for  the  first  time  in  her 
aspiring  life  her  own  visitor  was  going  to  be  ushered  in 
by  her  own  manservant. 

Lady  Chesham  was  expected  to  call,  and  Katherine 


130 

knew  that  much  of  her  future  social  security  would  de- 
pend upon  the  attitude  which  she  took  with  her  old  school 
friend,  and  the  attitude  her  old  school  friend  took  with 
her. 

Lady  Chesham  could  float  her  very  nicely  if  she  chose 
— but  the  question  was  would  she  choose? 

Katherine  was  inclined  to  think  she  would  if  only  she 
could  be  made  to  think  that  Katherine  didn't  want  her 
to ;  and  the  way  to 

"  Lady  Chesham!  "  announced  the  grave  footman, 
who  was  in  admirable  harmony  with  the  grave  flat. 

Katherine  rose,  stuck  out  her  thin  chin,  closed  her 
light  grey  eyes,  pursed  up  her  lip-salved  mouth,  and 
rustled  forward. 

"  Dear  Evelyn,  this  is  nice  to  see  you !  Fancy,  nearly 
a  year  since  we  met!  My  dear,  how  you've  lost  in 
weight !  You're  all  right,  aren't  you  ?  Do  come  and  sit 
down.  I  long  to  hear  all  your  news !  "  she  cried  in  her 
very  lowest,  most  rumbling,  and  most  thrilling  voice. 

Lady  Chesham  looked  round,  sat  down  in  a  perfect 
Queen  Anne  chair,  and  instantly  decided  that  her  friend 
was  quite  a  safe  person  to  be  the  possessor  of  a  newly- 
made  fortune. 

She  had  quite  expected  to  find  a  scheme  of  Moorish 
gorgeousness  or  some  obtrusive  oriental  decorations 
pervading  the  flat,  but  instead  everything  was  the  final 
declaration  in  perfect  taste  without  ostentation. 

Possibly,  had  Lady  Chesham  penetrated  the  boudoir, 
with  its  weirdly-shaped  cane  and  wicker  chairs,  its  bead 
curtains,  its  oriental  vases,  its  over-pictured  walls,  its 


THE    WILD    WIDOW  131 

high-art  china  cats  and  griffins,  its  Japanese  stalks,  its 
bewildering  cushions  and  draperies,  she  might  have 
altered  her  opinion  and  swiftly  formed  resolutions ;  but 
as  neither  Lady  Chesham  nor  anyone  else  who  mattered 
would  ever  penetrate  this  sanctum  upholstered  to  please 
Katherine  Orlitson's  innate  love  of  ostentation,  the  smart 
widow's  social  career  would  remain  unspoilt  by  the  bane- 
ful influence  of  unrefined  surroundings. 

Katherine  knew  that  she  longed  to  be  ostentatious, 
but,  unlike  most  people  hampered  by  this  failing,  she 
fully  realised  her  own  weakness,  and  was  therefore  able 
to  quell  it  into  submission  before  anyone  else  guessed  at 
its  existence. 

Katherine  was  quite  aware  that  the  spending  of  a 
newly-made  fortune  is  a  delicate  business,  and  was  clever 
enough  to  lay  down  rules  for  herself  in  the  very  begin- 
ning. 

"  You've  got  a  charming  place  here,  dearie ! "  ex- 
claimed Lady  Chesham,  when  her  trained  eye  had  noted 
the  restraint  displayed  in  the  selection  of  wall  decora- 
tions. (There  was  plenty  of  space  between  a  dignified 
Poussin,  a  sun-glowing  Lorraine,  and  a  group  of  reticent 
Orchardsons.) 

"  I  think  it's  nice — yes — but  I'm  very  tired  of  choos- 
ing and  planning  and  ordering.  When  one's  furnishing 
en  pttce  it  is  such  a  temptation  to  put  everything  into 
the  hands  of  one  firm  and  to  do  nothing  oneself  except 
pay — or  owe — the  bills.  But  a  temptation  like  that 
must  be  quelled.  I  chose,  and  ordered,  and  fitted,  and 
harmonised  everything  myself,  and  in  consequence,  my 


132  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

dear,  I'm  a  wreck — a  positive  wreck!  Then  there  was 
some  of  our  own  old  stored-up  family  rubbish  to  be 
fished  out  and  made  clean — but  unpunctuated  newness  is 
too  soul-shattering,  isn't  it?  I've  got  poor  great-great- 
great-great-great  Aunt  Lucille  out  of  retirement,  you 
see."  Mrs.  Orlitson  airily  waved  towards  the  gold-and- 
pearl-framed  miniature  of  the  simpering  lady  with  the 
impossible  bust.  "  I  always  feel  I  get  my  strain  of  devil- 
ment, combined  with  virtue,  from  her !  It  is  nice,  after 
a  prolonged  period  of  hard-upishness,  to  get  back 
again,  as  it  were!  Now,  my  dear,  don't  let  me  cackle 
any  more  about  myself — do  tell  me  your  news !  " 

Evelyn  Chesham  gazed  at  her  in  real  honest  admira- 
tion. Katherine  Orlitson  was  doing  the  thing  splendidly 
— right  through  and  through. 

The  Bensteads  didn't  by  any  means  come  of  a  bad 
stock,  but  Lady  Chesham  knew  perfectly  well  that  these 
"  ancestors  "  of  Katherine's  were  progenitors  of  some- 
body else. 

She  was  fully  aware  that  virtuous  great-great-great- 
great-great  Aunt  Lucille  was  the  great-great-great- 
great-great  aunt  of  some  unfortunate  family  to  whom 
Mrs.  Orlitson's  cheques  were  useful. 

But  nobody  else  would  be  aware  of  that,  and  there 
was  no  doubt  that  Katherine  would  be  well  worth  taking 
under  her  wing. 

If  she  didn't  discover  her  somebody  else  would;  for 
the  Holstein  Mansions  widow,  with  her  red  hair,  perfect 
waist,  perfect  flat,  striking  personality  and  helpful  for- 
tune, would  inevitably  prove  a  "  draw." 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  133 

"  I  haven't  any  news  to  tell,"  replied  Evelyn,  respond- 
ing to  the  conclusion  of  her  friend's  last  sentence.  "  Of 
course  nothing  much  has  begun  yet,  although  there  are 
signs  of  an  early  season." 

"  Yes,  so  Lady  Bentive  was  saying — she  tells  me  the 
new  Serpentine  Club  is  going  to  open  next  week  instead 
of  next  month  as  arranged." 

Lady  Chesham  was  silent.  She  didn't  know  Katherine 
was  acquainted  with  Lady  Bentive.  How  should  she 
know  that  only  during  the  purchase  of  a  fifty-guinea 
Persian  kitten,  Mrs.  Orlitson  had  skilfully  mentioned 
the  opening  of  this  new  and  somewhat  exclusive  woman's 
club! 

'*  You'll  join?  "  she  queried  after  a  moment's  thought. 

"  Oh,  I  said  I  wouldn't — don't  think  I  shall.  *  It  seems 
too  early  for  th — that  sort  of  thing,"  answered 
Katherine  carelessly. 

"  Of  course  it  isn't  too  early — let  me  put  you  up !  " 

Mrs.  Orlitson  puckered  up  her  forehead. 

"  You  know,  Evelyn,  I'd  much  rather  be  put  up  by  you 
than  any  gushing  new  friends,  but " 

This  settled  it.  No  "  gushing  new  friends  "  should  be 
the  first  to  get  hold  of  the  wealthy  widow.  Certainly 
they  shouldn't! 

"  I  shall  put  you  up,  my  dearest  girl,  and  Mirian 
Donne  shall  second  you.  Come  to  lunch  and  meet  her 
to-morrow.  She's  delightful,  only  Charles  hates  her 
husband — but  you  know  what  Charles  is  if  a  man  ad- 
dresses more  than  ten  consecutive  words  to  me !  Yes,  I 
insist  upon  your  joining,  and  through  me!  " 


134  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

Katherlne  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Oh,  well,  if  I  give  offence  I  can't  help  it.  Old 
friends  matter — new  ones  don't !  Put  me  up  if  you  like, 
Eve — and  thanks  awfully — but  be  ready  to  swear 
that  six  months  ago  I  had  arranged  to  be  introduced 
by  you.  And  how  is  Sir  Charles?  Othello-like  as 
ever?  " 

Lady  Chesham  answered  that  he  was,  but  she  answered 
vaguely,  for  her  thoughts  were  working  swiftly. 

The  ancestors  had  not  deceived  her,  but  the  "  gushing 
new  friends  "  had,  and  she  meant  to  be  the  first  to  float 
Mrs.  Orlitson  now  that  it  was  quite  evident  other  people 
wished  to  do  so. 

"  You  know,  Evelyn,  you  will  always  come  first — be- 
fore anyone"  said  Katherine  later  in  the  afternoon,  when 
she  had  instructed  Orby  to  say  "  out "  to  anyone  who 
might  call — she  knew  quite  as  well  as  Orby  that  no  one 
would  be  likely  to  call ! — "  because  not  only  are  you  my 
old  friend  who  knew  me  in  the  days  of  my  threadbare- 
ness,  but  also  my  present  affluence  is  indirectly  owing  to 
you.  If  you  hadn't  shown  me  Mary  Laurence's  grand- 
father's system  I  should  never  have  tried  Monte  Carlo, 
and  if  Monte  hadn't  been  kind  I  should  never  have  been 
able  to  risk  Grey  Rubbers ;  It's  all  you !  You've  bene- 
fited me,  you've  benefited  Mary  Laurence  insomuch  that 
she's  got  a  handsome  percentage  of  my  winnings,  and 
you've  benefited  the  nice  honest  man  who  recommended 
me  *  Grey  Rubbers,'  because  he  gets  a  big  share  of 
my  profits.  Indirectly,  Evelyn,  it's  all  you — I  am  so 
grateful ! " 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  135 

This  was  exactly  the  right  tack  to  take,  and  Mrs. 
Orlitson  knew  it. 

Let  Evelyn  Chesham  be  made  to  regard  herself  as 
Katherine's  benefactor,  and  there  was  nothing  she 
wouldn't  do  to  keep  up  the  illusion ;  for  Lady  Chesham 
was  one  of  those  useful  individuals  who  insensibly  take 
themselves  at  whatever  valuation  other  people  place 
upon  them. 

She  was  Katherine's  "  benefactor,"  and  **  gushing 
new  friends  "  were  presumably  very  much  on  the  scenes ! 
This  settled  everything. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Lady  Chesham  when,  after  the 
maisonette  had  been  displayed — all  except  the  boudoir 
— she  proceeded  to  take  her  leave.  "  May  I  give  you  a 
piece  of  advice  ?  " 

"  Do,  dearest,  do!  "  But  Katherine's  light  grey  eyes 
began  to  glitter  ominously.  She  wasn't  quite  the  type 
of  person  who  altogether  appreciated  advice. 

"  Well,  I  very  strongly  advise  you  to  have  a  com- 
panion of  some  sort — a  woman  self-effacing  enough  not 
to  bother  you,  yet  someone  always  on  the  scenes.  You 
see,  Katherine,  you  are  young " 

"  Oh,  don't,  Eve !  Twenty-eight's  an  awful  age — 
for  a  widow !  " 

" You  are  youag,  very  attractive,  and  somewhat 

on  the  flighty  side,  so  until  you  elect  to  marry  again 
I  advise  a  nominal  watch-dog ! " 

Katkerine  shuddered. 

"  You  seem  quite  determined  to  get  me  fixed  up  again, 
Eve ! " 


136  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  Oh,  of  course,  you  must  marry — and  marry  well. 
7  shall  see  to  that  myself ! " 

"  Thank  you,  dearest,  you  are  sweet !  " 

Lady  Chesham  looked  up  quickly,  but  fortunately 
Katherine's  left  eyelid  was  once  more  in  its  normal 
position  before  her  glance  reached  that  locality. 

"  Then  you'll  think  over  what  I  suggest  about  the 
companion,  won't  you,  dear?  " 

"  I  will,  Evelyn — I'll  not  only  think,  but  act ;  and 
probably  in  less  than  a  week's  time  you'll  find  my  reputa- 
tion zealously  guarded  by  two  knitting  needles  and  a 
salaried  glare.  Good-bye,  dearest — yes,  I'll  remember 
lunch  to-morrow! — 1.30,  isn't  it?  ...  Right!  So 
really  sweet  to  have  seen  you !  Ta-ta !  Don't  get  any 
thinner  or  you'll  slip  away  altogether,  and  Sir  Charles 
won't  have  anything  left  to  adore !  Good-bye !  " 

Directly  Mrs.  Orlitson  was  safely  and  securely  alone 
she  bunched  her  trained  skirt  up  round  her  hips  and 
danced  at  full  tilt  a  breakdown  which  used  to  find 
special  favour  with  Birmingham  pantomime  audiences. 

From  beneath  the  frills  of  a  very  bewildering  black 
satin  petticoat  two  black  satin-shod  feet  energetically 
let  off  a  satisfactory  amount  of  their  owner's  vitality, 
till  with  a  final  kick  which  momentarily  landed  Mrs. 
Orlitson's  toe  on  a  level  with  the  ethereal  Corot  land- 
scape, the  Holstein  Mansions  widow  allowed  her  exuber- 
ance to  subside  into  an  artistically  uncomfortable  chair. 

"  Hurray !  Hurrah ! !  Hurroo ! ! !  "  she  ejaculated  in 
tones  that  were  safely  subdued.  "  Let  me  once  get  in 
the  Serpentine  Club  and  take  up  with  the  best  members, 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  137 

and  I'm  floated !  One  thing  leads  to  another  so  quickly 
when  a  woman  dresses  well  and  has  got  warbling  oof- 
birds  !  If  I  hadn't  lied  about  Evelyn's  loss  of  weight — 
poor  soul,  she  lias  spread  in  twelve  months! — touched 
upon  the  purchased  husband's  jealousy,  insinuated  about 
gushing  new  friends,  and  mentioned  Lady  Bentive, 
everything  might  have  been  all  'no  go ' ;  but  now  it'll 
all  be  righter  than  rain !  I  shall  soon  get  things  in 
order  now,  and  be  able  to  present  a  dramatic  triumph 
of  love  and  mystery  entitled  *  The  Widow  Remated '  or 
*  The  Red-haired  Rogue's  Lover '/  Good  heavens,  I'm 
a  wonderful  woman !  I  always  used  to  tell  Roger  I 
was — and  it's  true !  An  absolutely  wonderful  woman  !  " 

When  Mrs.  Orlitson  had  recovered  from  this  per- 
fectly excusable  burst  of  self -admiration,  she  proceeded 
to  consider  Lady  Chesham's  suggestion  of  a  widow's 
watch-dog — and  shuddered. 

Katherine  wasn't  at  heart  a  woman's  woman,  although, 
for  purposes  of  policy  and  fashion,  she  was  quite  ready 
to  appear  as  such — a  necessary  pose  in  these  days  of 
national  sex-antagonism  and  hen  bridge-parties. 

There  were  so  few  women  who  took  a  private  boudoir 
— "  Damn  " — for  what  it  was  worth,  and  so  few  could 
quarrel  comfortably. 

No  companion  of  her  own  sex  had  ever  been  entirely 
satisfactory,  except  Honora,  who 

"  Ah !— yes— Honora!  " 

Mrs.  Orlitson  ejaculated  these  three  words,  stuck 
out  her  chin,  and  sat  forward  in  her  chair. 

Honora !     If  only  she  could  be  induced  to  leave  the 


138  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

chicken  farm,  who  could  make  a  more  ideal  companion? 
It  was  the  end  of  February  when  Katherine  left 
Upper  Deerbuck  Farm  to  spend  a  couple  of  months  by 
the  sea  while  Teddington  &  Co.,  Ltd.,  were  arranging 
the  flat  and  supplying  heirlooms,  and  now  it  was  the 
middle  of  April. 

Over  seven  weeks  since  she  had  left  a  tall  pale  girl, 
whose  dark  eyes  held  everything  but  happiness,  standing 
in  a  low  doorway  waving  good-byes. 

Honora  wasn't  happy;  she  had  never  been  happy 
since  Berr's  abrupt  departure  at  the  end  of  September. 
So  why — why  shouldn't  she  come  and  guard  Mrs.  Orlit- 
son's  reputation  in  return  for  a  liberal  salary  and  lots 
of  frocks? 

Katherine  thought  over  the  matter  for  exactly  half 
an  hour  and  five  minutes,  at  the  end  of  which  time  her 
definite  decision  was  formed. 

She  would  asked  Honora  to  come. 

She  wanted  Honora  to  come. 

And,  hitherto,  most  things  which  Mrs.  Orlitson 
wanted  had  eventually  taken  place ! 


CHAPTER    XVI 

IT  was  cold,  very  cold  for  April,  and  the  chickens 
were  still  treated  to  a  hot  breakfast  of  mashed  potatoes, 
bread,  and  other  delicacies  which  Honora  cooked  in  a 
small  cellar  under  the  granary. 

She  plunged  a  long  toasting  fork  into  the  copper  of 
boiling  water. 

Yes,  the  potatoes  were  quite  soft — they  could  be 
taken  out  now,  and  mashed. 

Honora  commenced  her  steamy  task — not  by  any 
means  an  unpleasant  cold-weather  occupation,  and  one 
which  last  year  she  had  performed  with  somewhat  en- 
thusiastic enjoyment. 

But  now  she  wasn't  enthusiastic  about  anything. 
She  was  glad  when  profits  increased,  but  experienced  no 
acute  pleasure. 

Since  last  September,  and  more  especially  since 
Katherine's  departure,  she  felt  like  a  woman  who  didn't 
mind  being  middle-aged. 

If  she  were  thirty-three  or  forty-three  instead  of 
twenty-three,  it  wouldn't  really  matter  in  the  least,  for 
she  had  no  further  use  for  her  youth ! 

Conscientiously,  Honora  mashed  the  potatoes  and 
bread,  then  stepped  out  into  the  cold  spring  sunshine, 
where  feathered  things  of  all  ages  and  sizes  awaited  her 
arrival. 

139 


140  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

The  black  Leghorn  hen  who,  in  September,  had  not 
been  allowed  to  become  the  parent  of  "  blackberry 
chicks,"  now  fluttered  proudly  round  a  brood  of  fluffy 
offspring,  while  the  red  Sussex  rooster  was  still  very 
much  cock  of  the  promenade. 

With  strict  impartiality  Honora  apportioned  the 
steaming  breakfast,  till,  just  as  the  rooster  was  forcibly 
taking  potato  out  of  his  favourite  wife's  beak,  the  post- 
man appeared  at  the  bend  of  the  rutted  drive. 

Honora  ceased  adjudicating  in  this  marital  dispute, 
and  ran  to  meet  the  shambling  figure. 

Dan's  slothful  shamble  maddened  her.  It  was  always 
possible  that  he  might  bring  something — something 
which  would  revive  the  gladness  of  her  youth — there- 
fore his  dilatory  methods  proved  insupportable. 

"  Something  for  me,  Dan  ? "  she  cried,  trying  to 
keep  hope  out  of  her  voice. 

"  Aye,  that  it  be — two  degrees  first  thing,"  he 
responded. 

Dan's  deafness  was  trying,  but  less  so  than  his  fum- 
bling methods  of  searching  a  large  canvas  bag. 

At  last  the  letter  was  produced — it  was  a  picture 
postcard  addressed  to  "  Mr.  Tryke,"  and  displaying  a 
chaste  view  of  some  unimportant  cathedral! 

Honora  felt  dangerous.  Just  lately  it  seemed  that 
Mary  Tryke  and  her  husband  had  developed  an  amaz- 
ing taste  for  the  export  and  import  of  picture  post- 
cards. The  export  didn't  matter,  but  the  import  was 
maddening,  and  Honora  felt  there  ought  to  be  a  law 
precluding  the  receipt  of  correspondence  by  employes. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  14-1 


"  Nothing  else,  Dan  ? 
"  Aye— only  this !  " 


And  "  only  this  "  proved  to  be  a  black-bordered  en- 
velope addressed  in  Katherine  Orlitson's  inconsequent 
handwriting — Katherine  Orlitson  who,  apart  from  any 
other  attractions  she  might  possess,  was  the  sister  of 
Bernard  Benstead! 

Conscientiously,  and  with  a  feeling  of  unjust  re- 
sentment, Honora  put  Tryke's  missive  on  the  ledge  of 
the  kitchen  window-sill ;  then,  entering  the  parlour,  she 
tore  open  the  black-bordered  envelope  and  proceeded  to 
read  its  contents. 

"AO  Holstein  Mansions. 

"  Most  dearest  Honora, — I'm  here,  and  feel  im- 
mensely pleased  with  myself  and  surroundings.  In 
fact,  I've  really  got  everything  I  want  except  one  thing 
— and  that  is  YOU!  Now,  my  dark-eyed  feeder  of 
fowls,  attend  to  me  and  heed  my  suggestions  and 
prayers  without  prejudice. 

"(1)  I  am  lonely  in  my  new  life,  and  need  a  pal. 

"(2)  I  miss  you  intensely,  because  you  are  the  only 
feminine  person  I  have  ever  found  congenial. 

"(3)  Will  you  come  and  live  with  me — or  anyhow 
pay  me  a  very  prolonged  visit? 

"(4)  If  you  consent,  matters  can  be  arranged  in  this 
way:  Tryke  and  his  wife  can  be  left  in  complete  con- 
trol of  the  farm,  sending  you  a  weekly  statement  of 
receipts  and  expenditure.  I  undertake  to  pay  the 
Trykes'  extra  wages.  I  undertake  to  keep  you  pro- 
vided with  pretty  clothes  and  £200  a  year  pocket  money. 


142  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"(5)  I  yearn  and  pray  you  to  come  at  once. 

"  Now,  dearest  of  fowl-feeders,  do,  do,  DO  consent ! 
If  you  have  any  affection  for  a  lonely,  red-haired,  thin, 
candid  widow  of  27£! — steadily  retrograding,  please 
note ! — you'll  wire  instantly  saying  *  Expect  me  in  three 
days.'  If  you  don't  like  it  you  shall  return  to  your 
roosters  at  once — I  promise  this — but  do  come!  Ho- 
nora,  save  me  melancholia  and  loneliness! — come — 
come! 

"  Awaiting  your  wire  with  tumultuous  heart-thuds, 

"  Your  lonely  and  affectionate  widow  chum, 

"  KATHEBINE." 

Honora  crushed  the  letter  tightly  in  one  hand,  while 
the  flush  which  made  her  beautiful  flooded  her  cheeks. 
It  was  months  now  since  she  had  been  beautiful. 

She  wanted  to  go  intensely. 

Risk  or  no  risk,  she  must  face  the  world  again — be- 
sides there  could  be  no  real  risk — nothing  could  happen 
— nothing  could  really  be  demanded  of  her. 

The  chicken  farm  had  seemed  a  safe  harbour,  a  safe 
hiding  place ;  but,  after  all,  viewing  the  matter  in  a 
calm,  common-sense  manner,  why  should  she  hide? 

Honora  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  instead  of 
preening  hens,  inconsequent  chicks,  bursting  trees,  and 
the  distant  line  of  ocean  made  restless  by  spring  winds, 
she  seemed  to  see  Piccadilly  Circus,  the  Park,  and  even 
the  supreme  ugliness  of  Oxford  Street! 

For  nearly  two  years  she  had  not  thought  of  these 
things,  but  now  Katherine's  letter  aroused  all  the  Lon- 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  143 

don-longings  which  slumber  in  every  attractive  woman's 
heart. 

Pretty  frocks! 

Honora  felt  as  though  her  legs  and  hips  were  already 
clasped  in  the  embrace  of  silk-lined  skirts,  and  it  seemed 
as  though  a  Bond  Street  toque  must  be  perched  on  her 
head. 

Whirr-r-r!  The  rumble  of  London  streets!  Swtsh- 
swish-swish!  The  trail  of  silk-lined  skirts. 

They  were  calling,  calling — those  London  voices — 
she  could  hear  them  above  the  arrogance  of  the  red 
Sussex  rooster,  who  was  now  standing  on  a  heap  of 
steaming  straw,  telling  his  wives  all  about  the  glory  of 
male  supremacy,  which  the  poor  feathered  dears  blindly 
believed. 

And  Katherine! — Honora  felt  it  would  be  joyous  to 
once  more  hear  Katherine's  unpunctuated,  inconsequent 
nonsense. 

Katherine's  flippancy  had  been  so  stimulating — every 
remark  was  like  a  dose  of  verbal  sal  volatile — and  then 
Katherine  was — was — yes,  she  was  Bernard  Benstead's 
sister. 

And  that  was  the  main  point  of  all! 

Bernard  had  written  in  the  eight-months-ago  pen- 
cilled note  that  he  would  turn  up  before  Katherine's 
money  was  all  spent,  and  if  he  turned  up,  where  would 
it  be  except  at  his  sister's  flat? 

Sometimes  Honora  tried  to  deceive  herself,  to  pretend 
that  she  had  forgotten  those  kisses  in  the  hush  of 
the  woods,  as  modern  women  do  forget  most  pass- 


THE    WILD    WIDOW 

ing  interludes  which  leave  no  important  traces  be- 
hind. 

But  the  self-deception  and  pretence  were  sorry,  futile 
efforts,  and  Katherine's  letter  had  shattered  them  all 
as  eggshell  china  is  shattered — in  a  thousand  irrepar- 
able pieces. 

She  never  could  forget  those  kisses  in  the  hush  of  the 
wood.  At  twenty-three  years  old  they  had  taught  her 
to  grow  up ! 

Since  then  her  life  had  been  like  the  bass  of  a  duet — 
subservient,  monotonous,  waiting  to  make  harmonies 
round  a  melody. 

Honora  put  Katherine's  letter  in  her  pocket,  and 
leaving  the  house  hurried  toward  the  styes,  where  she 
knew  Tryke  would  be  found  attending  to  the  domestic 
needs  of  Bessie  and  her  kin. 

"  Good-morning,  Tryke,"  she  called  out  with  the 
spring-time  in  her  voice. 

"  G'morning,  miss.  (Hoo-up,  old  lady !  Now,  none 
of  your  tares!)" 

"Tryke!" 

"  S'miss?     (Nah!  none  o*  that,  my  booty.)  " 

"  If  I  went  away  for  a  long  holiday — say  for  four 
or  six  months — could  you  and  Mary  take  entire  control 
of  the  farm?  " 

"  That  mostly  what  we  do  now,  miss,  so  ter  speak." 

Honora  smiled.  She  felt  no  resentment  at  this  slight 
cast  upon  her  own  importance — only  relief. 

"Well,  if  you  were  paid  extra  wages  and  received 
a  percentage  of  profits,  would  you  undertake  to 


THE     WILD    WIDOW  145 

carry  on  the  farm  as  successfully  as  it's  carried  on 
now?" 

Tryke's  sense  of  humour  was  even  less  than  that  usu- 
ally possessed  by  the  browned  and  horny-handed  British 
agriculturist,  but  even  into  his  stolid  eyes  darted  a 
flash  of  something  which  might  have  done  duty  for 
amusement. 

"  If  me  and  th'  missis  did  our  own  way  without  no 
interference,  so  ter  speak,  there  wouldn't  be  no  cause 
for  complaint,"  was  his  tactful  reply. 

Honora  understood,  and  laughed.  It  seemed  easy  to 
laugh  to-day. 

"  Then  that  settles  it,  Tryke.  To-day  is  Monday— 
on  Thursday  I'll  go  away  for  a  long  holiday,  and  leave 
everything  in  your  hands.  I  daresay  you'll  find  it  diffi- 
cult to  get  on  without  me  at  first,  but  you'll  soon  shake 
down !  " 

There  was  a  mischievous  school-girl  malice  in  this 
last  remark,  and  Honora  purposely  darted  off  before 
Tryke  should  be  faced  with  the  difficulty  of  finding  a 
reply. 

"Harry!  Harry!" 

A  youth  and  a  sack  appeared  at  the  loft  doorway. 

"  I  want  you  to  leave  what  you  are  doing  and  go  to 
the  post  office." 

"Ayh?" 

"Get  down  at  once  and  come  to  the  hall — I'll  have 
the  telegram  written  by  the  time  you  are  ready." 

"Ayh!" 

Back  to  the  house,  into  the  parlour,  up  to  the  ink- 


146  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

bespattered  writing-table — a  pencil — a  sheet  of  paper 
— sixpence ! 

"  To  Orlitson,  OA  Holstein  Mansions,  London. 
Coming  gladly.  Expect  me  Thursday.  Writing. — 
HONORA." 

She  didn't  know  quite  why  she  was  writing,  b&r  a* 
no  telegraphic  message  is  complete  without  this  un- 
necessary assurance,  and  as  Honora  meant  to  use  fr<ery 
fraction  of  her  sixpenny  worth,  "  writing  "  might  just 
as  well  go  in ! 

The  "  potato  boy  " — such  was  the  messenger's  official 
designation — set  out  on  his  mission — the  spring  sun 
increased  to  mid-day  warmth — the  hens  clucked  among 
themselves  as  though  they  were  discussing  the  situation 
and  whispering  to  each  other  that  they  knew  exactly 
why  She  was  going  to  London — they'd  seen  a  bit,  those 
hens  had,  and  the  chinchilla  muff  Wyandotte  had  been 
known  to  stray  as  far  as  the  woods! — the  pigs 
passed  a  grunting  verdict  on  the  subject — and  Tryke 
was  already  forming  a  system — which  did  considerable 
credit  to  his  rural  intellect — by  means  of  which  accounts 
could  be  "  cooked  to  a  turn." 

Then  came  Mr£.  Oriitson's  orange-sheatfosd  reply: 

"  To  Vfcyne,  Upper  Deerbuck  Farm,  Transley  Road, 
Sussex.  Wingless  Angel  and  Sublime  Feeder  of  Fowls ! 
Welcome!  A  red-haired  widow's  grovelling  thanks  at 
your  feet!  All  hail  Thursday!  Halleluiah! 

"  KATHERINE  THE   GRATEFUL." 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  147 

Honora  read  this  effervescing  one-and-three-penny 
worth  of  unpunctuated  nonsense,  and  felt  that  she  could 
almost  hear  a  low-toned,  rapid,  rumbling  voice  and  see 
a  thin,  perfectly-waisted  black  figure. 

Katherine  was  delicious !  She  loved  Katherine !  She 
longed  to  see  Katherine! — and,  quite  incidentally  she 
loved  Katherine's  brother ! 

Monday  ended,  Tuesday  came  to  a  close,  Wednesday 
ran  its  course,  then  Thursday  dawned  with  a  hint  of  very 
distant  summer  on  the  vividly  clear  horizon. 

Honora  was  up  with  the  earliest  rising  lark  in  Sussex, 
and  before  breakfast  she  was  wandering  through  the 
woods,  where  love  had  found  her  out  and  taught  her 
to  grow  up. 

She  looked  at  the  exact  spot  where  she  and  Bernard 
had  stood  wrapped  in  the  magnetism  of  each  other's 
embrace,  and  from  the  moist  brown  earth  a  ghost  seemed 
to  rise. 

It  was  the  ghost  of  a  large  man  wearing  a  blue  suit 
and  carrying  a  sixpenny  stick — a  large  man  whose  un- 
moral mouth  was  touched  by  the  hint  of  a  smile,  and 
who  held  out  his  arms. 

"  It'll  be  all  right  this  time,  Bernard,"  cried  Honora, 
speaking  aloud  and  startling  nest-building  birds  in  the 
boughs.  "  You'll  come  to  me  in  London,  won't  you? 
You'll  come,  Bernard,  you'll  come?  " 

And  through  the  woods  came  the  whistle  of  east-born 
breezes — a  whistle  which  sounded  like  the  wraith  of  a 
"  YES." 

Three  hours  later  the  one  ramshackle  fly  from  Trans- 


148  THE     WILD    WIDOW 

ley  Station  stood  at  the  door.  One  large  trunk  was 
reposing  imperiously  beside  the  driver,  and  another  oc- 
cupied the  back  seat  of  the  fly. 

A  tall  girl  dressed  in  grey  tweed  and  with  touches  of 
violets  in  her  hat  took  the  opposite  place. 

"  Good-bye,  Tryke  —  good-bye,  Mary — good-bye, 
Harry!  Mind  you  look  after  yourselves!  Be  sure  to 
tickle  Bessie  and  talk  to  her  twice  a  day — I've  never 
seen  a  pig  so  dependent  on  human  companionship — 
and  let  me  have  letters  three  times  a  week!  Good-bye, 
my  chicks — good-bye,  Julia — good-bye,  Portia — good- 
bye, Bluebeard — good-bye — bye " 

The  fly  jolted  down  the  rutted  drive — the  red  Sussex 
rooster  crowed  "  God-speed  "  from  the  top  of  the  wall 
— the  sun  shone  gaily,  and  the  sea-sky  line  merged  from 
grey  to  blue ! 

Honora  looked  back  until  the  very  last — tears  shed 
a  mist  across  her  extraordinarily  beautiful  eyes — the 
fly  turned  the  corner 

Upper  Deerbuck  Farm  had  become  a  memory,  and 
spring-time's  hope  was  in  the  air. 


CHAPTER    XVH 

"  CHINA  tea  and  rusks." 

Lady  Chesham  gave  the  order ;  one  of  the  Serpentine 
Club's  good-mannered  waiters  took  it — the  club  had 
been  opened  less  than  a  month,  so  good  manners  still 
prevailed  among  the  attendants — then  she  opened  an 
illustrated  paper  and  read  an  enthralling  reply  to  a  cor- 
respondent whose  pseudonym  of  "  Embonpoint  "  at  once 
created  links  of  sympathy. 

Lady  Chesham  little  knew  that  a  high-collared,  cigar- 
ette-smoking sub-sub-sub-editor,  who  played  ten  shilling 
points  on  a  salary  of  ££  5s.  per  week,  was  responsible 
both  for  "  Embonpoint's  "  query  and  reply ;  therefore 
she  read  and  believed  with  all  the  eagerness  of  one  who 
suffers  from  the  tragedy  of  increasing  waist  measure- 
ment. 

"  Of  course  you  mustn't  despair,  Embonpoint — why 
should  you  when  Madame  Aurelia's  flesh-absorbing 
cream  can  be  bought  for  five  shillings  and  ninepence  a 
jar?  Do  not  on  any  account  compress  your  figure,  al- 
though first  rate  corsets  which  restrain  without  con- 
fining— like  those  made  by  Patrice  et  Cie,  of  010, 
Hanover  Street,  for  the  absurdly  low  sum  of  £4  4s. — 
are  of  service  in  keeping  back  spreading  tendencies. 
Take  a  glass  of  Reinsbad  Water — two  shillings  and 
one  penny  per  bottle  of  all  reputable  chemists — before 
breakfast,  and  immediately  commence  a  course  of  Mrs. 

149 


150  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

de  la  Carr's  Siberian  Gymnastics — £8.  8s.  the  course,  at 
15,  Park  Gardens,  Lancaster  Gate.  These  will  almost 
instantly  reduce  •"'esh,  and  if  adopted  in  conjunction 
with  Dr.  Payhaiter*s  Electric  Prodding  Massage — ar- 
rangements have  been  made  that  this  extraordinarily 
valuable  remedy  can  be  taken  together  with  the  Siberian 
Gymnastics,  by  payment  of  an  extra  £6  6s. — you  will 
find " 

"  Not  playing  in  the  billiard  tournament,  Lady 
Chesham?  " 

Lady  Chesham  laid  aside  the  fears  and  hopes  of  "  Em- 
bonpoint "  to  smile  encouragingly  at  the  speaker — one 
Mrs.  Burham,  who  secretly  eked  out  her  pension  by 
means  of  Society  columns  signed  "  Sotto  Voce"  and 
who  could  often  be  relied  upon  to  return  hospitality 
that  was  worth  while  by  a  par,  and  to  reward  informa- 
tion that  was  worth  while,  by  introductions  that  were 
worth  while. 

Mrs.  Burham  lived  mainly  on  the  worth-while  system, 
and  found  it  pay. 

She  was  hipless,  angular,  upright,  gowned  by  dress 
agencies,  booted  by  misfits,  complexioned  by  presenta- 
tion cosmetics,  jewelled  by  the  Scandinavian  Diamond 
Company — one  "  par  "  a  ring,  two  "  pars  "  a  bracelet, 
and  a  half  a  column  a  necklet — and  furred  through 
exchange-and-mart  advertisements. 

Mrs.  Burham  practically  supported  herself  and  three 
marriageable  daughters  who  didn't  marry,  on  "  pars  " 
— so  much  so,  that  a  novelist,  who  was  unsuccessful  on 
account  of  his  talents,  gave  birth  to  an  apt  riddle. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  151 

"  Why  are  the  Misses  Burham  like  the  children  »f  a 
skilful  courtesan  ?  " 

"Because  they  are  supported  by  different  pa(r)s!" 

The  riddle  reached  Mrs.  Burham's  Scandinavian  dia- 
mond-studded ears,  and  in  "  Cousin  Lilette's  "  next 
week's  "  Town  Tale-Tellings  "  the  novelist's  last  book 
was  alluded  to  as  "  a  dull  volume  full  of  dull  pages, 
commendable  on  account  of  its  high  moral  tone  and  al- 
most Calvinistic  strain  of  purity,  but  dismal  and  yawn- 
inducing  from  beginning  to  end." 

It  was  never  wise  to  annoy  Mrs.  Burham. 

"  No,  I  didn't  enter  for  this  one  because  my  exacting 
husband  grumbles  at  everything  which  keeps  me  too 
much  occupied.  Miss  Mostyn-Crag  and  my  little 
friend,  Mrs.  Orlitson,  are  in  for  the  finals,  aren't 
they?" 

"Yes,  I  think  they  are.  Smart  little  woman  that 
Mrs.  Orlitson — but  why  does  she  use  the  name  of 
'Dylke'?" 

"  Dylke !  Katherine  never — no,  no,  china  tea  and 
rusks!  " — as  the  good-mannered  waiter  brought  coffee 
and  toasted  scones.  He  had  been  accustomed  to  service 
in  ladies'  clubs !  "  Katherine  never  uses  the  name  of 
'Dylke'!" 

"  My  dear  Lady  Chesham  " — Mrs.  Burham  was  very 
brisk  and  definite — "  excuse  me,  but  she  doe»!  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  last  week-end  I  went  down  to  stay  at 
the  Porkensteins'  place  in  Buryshire,  and  on  Sunday 
morning  strolled  over  to  the  only  inn  the  village  pos- 


152  THE    WILD    WIDOW 

sesses  to  Inspect  an  oak  settee  that  I  heard  was  for  sale. 
I  offered  a  quarter  the  price  they  were  asking  for  the 
settee,  then  amused  myself  by  looking  at  the  visitors' 
books — visitors'  books  are  always  interesting,  I  think, 
don't  you?  There  had  been  no  fresh  entries  for  a  week 
except  one — *  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dylke — Landly  Cross! ' 
I  wondered  if  these  might  happen  to  be  connected  with 
the  trust  fund  case  Dylkes,  you  know,  and  enquired  of 
the  waiter  just  as  two  people  strolled  across  the  lawn. 
*  That's  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dylke,  madame — they're  leaving 
to-night,'  he  answered.  I  glanced  with  mild  interest  at 
the  people,  and  saw  your  attractive  red-haired  friend, 
or  somebody  exactly  like  her — accompanied  by  rather  a 
decent-looking  man ! " 

Lady  Chesham  smiled  with  amusement  that  was  not 
feigned. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Burnham,  you  really  ought  to  wear 
glasses!  Certainly  you've  mistaken  someone  else  for 
Mrs.  Orlitson!  Good  gracious!  I  don't  believe  Kath- 
erine  knows  a  single  man  who  hasn't  been  introduced  to 
her  by  us,  and — er — really,  Mrs.  Burnham,  that  is 
rather  a  dangerous  sort  of  thing  to  say  of  a  fellow 
club-member,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  when  I  distinctly  said  '  Mrs.  Dylke ' 
might  have  been  someone  exactly  like  Mrs.  Orlitson — 
but  it  really  was  a  most  extraordinary  resemblance! — 
quite  a  case  of  '  doubles ' !  Has  your  friend  been  a 
widow  long?  " 

"  Over  a  year !  " 

"  Really !     Left  fairly  well  off?  " 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  153 

"  Katharine  Orlitson  is  quite  a  rich  woman,  and  is 
already  beginning  to  be  a  distinct  success." 

"Is  she? — is  she?  Well,  she's  got  a  perfect  figure, 
and — now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  this  *  Mrs.  Dylke ' 
hadn't,  and  possibly  her  hair  was  more  carroty  than 
Mrs.  Orlitson's.  But  it  really  was  an  amusing  likeness. 
I  must  tell  Mrs.  Orlitson  when  I  get  to  know  her  better 
— I  should  like  to  know  her  better !  Such  an  attractive 
voice !  Bring  her  in  next  Sunday  to  see  me,  if  you  can 
— you  know  my  Sunday  scrambles — weak  tea  and  celeb- 
rities from  four  to  seven!  Do  come — good-bye — I'm 
due  at  the  Gunages' — good-bye !  " 

When  Mrs.  Burham  had  trailed  a  demode,  soiled,  and 
second-hand  Doucet  skirt  through  the  swing  door,  Lady 
Chesham  got  up  quickly  and  decided  she  wouldn't  wait 
any  longer  for  the  china  tea  and  rusks.  (The  good- 
mannered  waiter  hadn't  yet  rectified  his  primary  error 
in  connection  with  coffee  and  scones,  though  probably 
it  would  only  be  a  very  few  moments  before  he  obligingly 
appeared  with  chocolate  and  pastries). 

Katherine  would  give  her  tea,  and  she  wanted  to  see 
Katherine. 

When  Lady  Chesham  reached  Holstein  Mansions  it 
was  to  learn  that  both  Mrs.  Orlitson  and  Miss  Vayne 
had  come  in  ten  minutes  ago,  and  before  tea  had  passed 
from  the  outer  drawing-room  into  the  inner  one 
Katherine  was  putting  effective  kisses  on  both  her 
cheeks. 

"  You  nice  thing ! "  she  cried,  pushing  Evelyn 
Chesham  on  to  exactly  the  chair  she  knew  to  be  most 


154  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

detirable  for  a  wearer  of  Madame  Effine's  speciatite 
long-fronted  corsets.  "  It  seems  ages  since  I  saw  you ! 
— quite  a  whole  horrid  day — and  I  was  just  writing  to 
ask  you  and  Sir  Charles  to  come  and  dine  on  Tuesday. 
Just  you  two,  the  Percivals,  the  Gunways,  and  a  couple 
of  odd  men  things  to  balance  Honora  and  me.  You  will 
come,  won't  you?  " 

"  We  shall  be  delighted,  dear,  and " 

"  That's  right !  I'll  ask  the  others  now  that  I  know 
my  benefactress  is  free.  Honora  and  I  always  call  you 
the  'G.B.' — Generous  Benefactress,  you  know!  Have 
you  been  Park-ing  to-day  ?  " 

"  No,  I've  just  come  from  the  club,  and — Katherine, 
what  were  you  doing  last  Sunday?  '* 

Mrs.  Orlitson  jerked — the  question  was  bewilderingly 
sudden  and  apparently  inconsequent — then  she  screwed 
up  her  white,  featureless  face. 

"Last — Sunday?  Last  Sunday?  Last  Sunday?" 
she  repeated  rapidly.  "  Surely  it  was  on  Sunday  that 
Honora  and  I  went  down  to  pay  a  surprise  visit  to  her 
chicken  farm  and  to  see  that  things  were  all  right,  and 
— oh !  ah ! "  as  the  door  opened  and  Miss  Vayne  en- 
tered the  room ;  "  here  she  is  herself  to  verify  the  truth 
of  my  statement.  Honora " — turning  round  so  that 
only  Honora  could  see  her  face — "  it  was  on  Sunday 
that  we  were  at  your  chick-chick  nursery,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

Honora  paused  the  fractional  part  of  a  second,  read 
Katherine's  face,  and  inferred  a  lie  while  soothing  her 
conscience  by  the  assurance  that  she  was  speaking  the 
truth. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  155 

"  Sunday !  Yes — of  course — we  w«r«  at  th«  farm  on 
Sunday,"  she  answered. 

And  so  they  had  been  at  the  farm  on  a  great  many 
Sundays,  and  because  on  this  particular  Sunday  Honora 
had  gone  down  there  by  herself,  real,  solid,  legitimate 
facts  were  not  altered ! 

No,  it  was  really  quite  all  right — she  had  taken  a  cue 
without  actually  staining  her  soul. 

"  Yes,  I  thought  so ;  only  my  memory's  so  bad  I  can 
never  remember  what  happens  from  one  day  to  another ! 
And  now,  chere-esi  of  Evelyns,  why  such  almost  alarmed 
interest  in  my  movements  last  Sunday  ?  " 

Lady  Chesham  looked  apologetic  and  uncomfortable. 

"It's  too  absurd,  dear,  only  Mrs.  Burham — you  know, 
she  belongs  to  the  Serpentine — the  '  par '  fiend,  they 
call  her — insists  that  she  saw  you  at  some  little  inn  at 
Buryshire ;  that  you  were  with  a  man,  and  staying  there 
under  the  name  of  4  Mrs.  Dylke  ' !  " 

Katherine  went  into  delighted  convulsions  of  laughter. 

"  No  such  luck ! "  she  cried,  with  a  complete  return 
of  the  unchecked  dare-devilishness  which  had  been 
slightly  moderated  since  her  installation  at  Holstein 
Mansions.  "  It's  quite  humiliating  to  think  that  though 
I've  been  on  the  market  again  for  over  a  year  not  a 
single  bid  has  been  made !  *  Mrs.  Dylke!  '  How  scream- 
ing! I  really  feel  rather  flattered,  though  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  be  turning  my  attention  to  libel  actions.  Do 
introduce  me  to  Mrs.  Brumm — or  Burham — I  must 
show  her  I'm  myself  and  not  the  naughty — naughty 
week-end  lady !  Ha-ha-ha !  " 


156  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

Lady  Chesham  joined  in  the  laughter,  Honora  me- 
chanically echoed  the  ripples,  and  a  few  moments  later 
conversation  had  wandered  far  afield  from  the  red- 
haired  Mrs.  Dylke  at  the  Buryshire  inn. 

Half  an  hour  afterwards  Lady  Chesham  took  her  de- 
parture, leaving  Honora  and  Katherine  alone. 

Katherine  pummelled  one  or  two  cushions,  and  rather 
aimlessly  altered  the  position  of  a  chair;  then  she 
turned  to  Honora,  who  was  glancing  through  the  slip- 
pery pages  of  a  current  magazine  de  luxe. 

"  You  were  a  brick  to  help  me  with  my  little  white 
prevarication,"  she  rattled  out,  speaking  lower,  faster, 
and  more  indistinctly  than  usual.  "  Directly  Eve  de- 
manded what  I'd  been  doing  last  Sunday,  I,  with  my 
quick  wit — you  don't  know  what  express-rate  wits  I've 
got,  Ora! — realised  that  she  thought  I'd  been  doing 
something  I  oughtn't  to  do;  and  not  being  able  to 
remember  that  I'd  spent  a  dull  day  by  myself  and  gone 
to  bed  early  longing  for  your  return  next  day,  I  just 
lied,  because  lies  sounded  more  circumstantial  than  the 
truth !  In  point  of  fact,  I  couldn't  remember  the  truth, 
but  you  helped  me  out  beautifully!  You're  a  prop, 
Honora,  and  there's  nothing  so  useful  as  for  two  women 
to  prop  up  the  other.  Neither  one  is  likely  to  come 
a  cropper  if  the  other  one's  staunch,  and — and — I'm 
just  as  staunch  as  you  are,  old  girl — if  ever  you  want  it! 
Now  I  premise  that  it's  clothing  time  if  we  want  to  grub 
at  7.30  and  catch  the  overture,  so  scuttle  along,  my 
staunch  prop,  and  make  yourself  divine  in  crepe  de 
Chine!  " 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  157 

When  Honora  reached  her  own  bedroom  she  sat  down 
on  a  white  enamelled  chair  and  asked  herself  some 
questions. 

(1)  Was  there  any  special  significance  in  Mrs.  Orlit- 
son's    voice    when    she    promised    staunchness    should 
Honora  ever  want  it? 

(2)  Did  she  vaguely  guess  or  vaguely  suspect? 

(3)  Why  was  Katherine  so  desperately  anxious  to 
prove  an  alibi? 

(4)  Who  was  this  red-haired  week-end  lady  seen  by 
Mrs.  Burham? 

(5)  Why  did  Katherine  tell  Honora  that  she'd  spent 
last  Sunday  "  mooning  about  bewailing  her  absence,  and 
going  to  bed  early,"  when — through  a  chance  remark 
dropped  by  the  lady's  maid — Honora  discovered  that 
Mrs.  Orlitson  had  been  away  from  early  Sunday  morn- 
ing till  early  Monday  morning? 

(6)  Where  did  Mrs.  Orlitson  spend  that  day  and 
night  ? 

(7)  What  did  it  all  mean? 

But  as  no  satisfactory  reply  to  any  of  these  queries 
was  forthcoming,  Honora  left  off  making  demands  upon 
her  reasoning  powers  and  began  to  dress. 

After  all,  Katherine's  secrets — if  she  had  any — were 
no  more  business  of  hers  than  her  sec ' 

Manette,  the  maid,  entered  at  this  juncture,  and 
Miss  Vayne's  toilet  began. 

Heliotrope  and  violets  suited  her  remarkably  well. 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

MRS.  ORIJTSON  slowly  revolved  in  front  of  the  white- 
framed  Psyche  glass,  and  decided  she  looked  like  a 
stylish  medium-sized  snake  with  a  Derfect  waist  and  a 
white  face. 

Cocuillet  So3urs  had  made  a  startling  success  of  black 
satin  covered  with  black  spangle-embroidered  chiffon, 
and  the  cut  of  the  decolletage  invested  bony  shoulders 
with  a  distinctive  charm. 

Mrs.  Orlitson's  shoulders  were  undiscussably  bony, 
but  as  they  led  to  the  promise  of  a  bust  that  came  in 
exactly  the  right  place  to  suit  present  fashions,  and 
were  white  as  gardenias,  only  a  George  IV.  or  a  Reubens 
would  have  wished  to  alter  the  existing  state  of  things 
— and  bones. 

Likewise,  the  black  velvet  fillet  terminating  in  a  black 
bird  of  paradise,  which  swept  backwards  over  the  red  of 
her  hair  to  the  white  of  her  thin  back,  made  Katherine 
all  that  a  woman  of  thirty — twenty-seven  and  a  half — 
need  be. 

"  Would  one  touch  of  rouge  improve  me,  d'you  think, 
Manette  ?  "  she  asked  of  the  maid,  whose  French  accent 
was  commendably  industrious. 

"  Most  times,  madame,  not,  for  madame's  specialite 
is  that  of  une  paleur  clairel  But  to-night — just — one 


soupfon — yes ! 


158 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  159 

The  soup f on  was  applied  -  Mgh  up  near  the  cheek 
bones — two  more  soupfons  on  either  ear,  and  the  small- 
est soupfon  on  the  chin.  Then  Katherine  Orlitson  went 
downstairs,  feeling  that  if  her  features  had  been  differ- 
ent she  would  have  been  a  beautiful  woman. 

But  her  features  weren't  different — which  was  a  good 
thing.  It  would  have  entirely  spoilt  her  to  be  a  beautiful 
woman. 

In  the  farthest  drawing-room  Honora  was  seated. 

That  strange  waiting  look  which  the  advent  of  Ber- 
nard Benstead  had  dispelled  was  slowly  returning  to  her 
eyes,  and  with  the  vivid  flush  absent  from  her  cheeks  she 
wasn't  looking  her  best. 

As  Katherine  entered  she  rose — the  heavy  cream  satin 
skirt  hung  with  divine  dignity  from  her  uncompressed 
waist — and  uttered  an  entirely  feminine  gasp  of  admira- 
tion. 

Mrs.  Orlitson  appreciated  the  gasp,  and  pirouetted. 

"All  right?  Eh?  What?  So?  Not?  Yes?  "she 
enquired. 

"  More  than  all  right — diabolically  attractive !  Even 
Sir  Charles'  watery,  stationary  eye  must  rove  to-night ! 
It's  almost  inhospitable  for  a  hostess  to  look  so — so — 
extinguishing!"  replied  Honora  with  spontaneous 
sincerity. 

Katherine  swirled,  performed  a  double  leg-twist  cul- 
minating in  a  high  kick,  then  came  to  anchor  and  in- 
spected her  companion. 

"  You  look  nice  of  course,"  she  said  reflectively. 
"  Your  eyes,  and  long  legs,  and  hair  must  prevent  you 


160  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

from  looking  anything  else — and  of  course  your  neck 
and  arms  are  indecorously  beautiful.  But  I  wish  you'd 
— you'd  look  as  if — as  if — you  cared  more  how  you 
looked!  A  woman's  chief  charm  lies  in  caring  how  she 
looks.  Don't  you  care  ?  " 

For  a  moment  Honora  forgot  that  she  was  not  quite 
alone  with  her  heartache. 

"  I  don't  think  so — it  isn't  worth  while,"  she  answered 
in  a  voice  that  sounded  flat  and  middle-aged. 

Katherine  looked  at  her,  and  came  closer. 

"  It'll  be  worth  while  soon,  dear — it's  bound  to  be !  " 
she  answered  gently. 

And  a  second  later  Honora's  cheek  was  kissed  by  warm 
lip-salved  lips. 

She  smiled,  held  Katherine's  hand  very  tightly  for  one 
moment — then  commented  on  the  success  of  Mrs.  Orlit- 
son's  coiffure. 

Katherine  responded  flippantly  as  usual,  but  made  up 
her  mind  that  if  it  was  in  any  way  possible  for  Bernard 
to  be  brought  back,  he  must  be  brought. 

She  didn't  like  Honora  to  think  things  "  weren't  worth 
while,"  and  she  didn't  like  to  hear  that  middle-aged 
note  in  her  voice. 

"  Who  am  I  to  go  in  with?  "  asked  Honora,  forcing 
herself  to  feel  very  much  interested. 

"  One  of  the  make-weight  unmarried  men — Arnold 
Smith,  I  think,"  replied  Katherine  carelessly. 

"  Arnold  Smith  ?  I  haven't  met  or  heard  you  speak 
of  him.  Who  is  he?  " 

"Oh!  he's   just   a — person.      Not   bad — anecdotal, 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  161 

clean-shaven,  goes  through  all  the  courses.  He's  a 
man  poor  Roger  and  I  met  on  our  honeymoon — Roger 
got  very  chummy  with  him — and  I  came  across  him 
at  the  Carlton  or  somewhere  the  other  day,  and  as  he's 
presentable  and  not  overdone  by  every  other  hostess, 
I  asked  him  to  make  up  for  to-night.  I  don't  think 
you'll  mind  him,  and " 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Percival!  " 

Mrs.  Orlitson  stuck  out  her  thin  chin  and  rustled 
forward  as  though  greeting  this  robust  magistrate 
and  his  placid  wife  was  the  one  supreme  joy  of  her 
whole  existence. 

"  Miss  Vayne  and  I  have  been  military  tournament- 
ing  this  afternoon,"  she  said  when  the  handshakes 
were  concluded.  "  It  was  awfully  exciting,  really,  but 
I'm  sure  they  settle  beforehand  which  sides  shall  come 
off  best  in  the  tugs  and  encounters  and  things.  I  saw 
one  huge,  black-moustached  Lancer  snigger  with 
amusement  when  he  won  the — oh !  Honora,  do  tell  Mrs. 
Percival  about  our  sniggering  Lancer  and " 

"  Sir  Charles  and  Lady  Chesham!  " 

"  I've  a  good  mind  to  send  you  home  again,  Eve ! 
(How  are  you,  Sir  Charles — I'll  try  to  forgive  her  for 
your  sake.  You  actually  passed  me — passed  me  at 
Prince's  this  afternoon !  I  coughed  and  spluttered, 
but  you  wouldn't  look  at  my  box,  and  when  I  went  down 
to  skate  you'd  disappeared.  I  do  hate  being  passed — 
I  sort  of  resent  my  own  lack  of  magnetism.  You  do 
plenty  of  passing,  don't  you,  Mr.  Percival — Mrs.  Per- 
cival— Lady  Chesham — passing  sentences  upon  poor 


162  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

people  who  only  sin  through  force  of  circumstances 
and " 

"  Sir  Godfrey  Speer!  " 

"  Ah !  Sir  Godfrey  " — as  a  smiling,  pink-blue-and- 
flaxen  youth  pressed  her  hand  and  looked  dinner-party 
love  into  her  eyes — "  we're  just  talking  about  sinning 
through  force  of  circumstance.  Is  that  the  way  with 
you,  sir,  or  are  your  crimes  nicely  planned  before- 
hand? " 

"  I  never  sin,  Mrs.  Orlitson.  I'm  like  that  opera 
chap — what's  his  name,  with  the  long  curls? — who's 
never  learnt  to  sin ! "  replied  the  pink  baronet,  whose 
perfect  feet  were  placed  in  a  most  well  arranged  atti- 
tude. 

"Haven't  you?  How  tiring!  Honora,  do  persuade 
Sir  Godfrey  not  to  be  so  fatiguingly  perfect ! " 

*'  Colonel  and  Miss  Gunway!  " 

A  clinging  gowned  sister  was  followed  by  a  mous- 
tached  and  white-waistcoated  brother — then  Mrs.  Orlit- 
son's  little  dmer  a  dix  was  complete,  except  for  one 
make-weight  man. 

For  ten  minutes  everybody  continued  to  babble  su- 
perfluities with  the  utmost  ease  and  apparent  pleasure, 
but  after  that  there  was  less  spontaneity. 

Mrs.  Orlitson  chatted  faster  than  usual,  and  might 
have  been  seen  to  glance  anxiously  at  the  clock  while 
the  "  soupfons  "  on  each  of  her  cheeks  grew  too  vivid. 

At  last  there  was  a  lull — one  of  those  lulls  which 
mean  internal  calls  for  food  and  politely  suppressed 
bad  temper. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  163 

Katherine  felt  the  situation  and  plunged  boldly 
into  it. 

"  Of  course  our  fifth  man  is  late ! "  she  cried,  as 
though  the  unappeased  hunger  of  her  guests  and  the 
steady  ruin  of  salmon  a  la  Regence  were  the  most 
pleasing  of  social  circumstances.  "My  poor  husband 
used  to  say  '  Arnold  Smith  would  be  late  at  his  own 
funeral ' — he  was  a  chum  of  poor  Roger's  when  we 
were  honeymooning.  Unpunctuality  is  one  of  the 
crimes  I  don't  understand.  Honora  and  I  are  never 
late  for  anything — but  that  may  be  because  we  have 
our  very  private  clocks  and  watches  sixty  minutes 
fast,  and  always  keep  on  pretending  to  ourselves  that 
it  really  is  the  time  we  think  it  is ! " 

"  What  a  cunning  plan ! "  cooed  Miss  Gunway,  who 
had  already  wearied  Sir  Godfrey  out  by  a  minute  de- 
scription of  a  water-colour  sketch  hung  on  the  third 
row  and  twentieth  from  the  nearest  door  in  room 
eight  of  a  new  one-man  gallery,  just  opened  in  Bond 
Street. 

"  Yes,  it's  not  uncute,  is  it  ? "  (Heavens!  that 
salmon!  Would  the  ghost  of  a  flake  remain?)  "  Ho- 
nora says  it  makes  life  longer  and  keeps  us  an  hour 

younger  than  we  think  we  are "  (Oh!  Sir  Charles' 

side  teeth  begin  to  look  like  the  incisors  of  a  starving 
wolf!)  "  I  can't  quite  follow  the  idea  myself, 
but " 

"  Mr.  Arnold  Smith!  " 

There  was  no  need  for  poor  Katherine's  inconse- 
quent chatter  to  continue,  no  need  for  eight  hungry 


164  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

human  beings  to  make  effort  at  polite  reply — the  tenth 
make-weight  man  had  arrived! 

"  Really,  Mrs.  Orlitson,  Fm  desperately  sorry,"  he 
murmured,  almost  forgetting  to  shake  hands  in  his 
contrite  embarrassment. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  say  you've  no  reason  not  to  be 
sorry,  Mr.  Smith,  because  such  a  statement  wouldn't 
be  sincere,"  replied  Katherine,  with  a  hint  of  real 
snappishness  in  her  voice.  "  But  I'll  try  to  forgive, 
and  Miss  Vayne  will  award  you  necessary  censure  dur- 
ing dinner.  (Mr.  Smith — Miss  Vayne.)  Now,  Mr. 
Percival,  if  you'll  escort  Lady  Chesham — er — er — 
(Colonel  Gunway — Mrs.  Percival) — er — (Sir  God- 
frey— Miss  Gunway) — (Yes,  please,  Mr.  Smith — Miss 
Vayne  is  quite  ready  to  commence  her  lectures!) — and 
please,  Sir  Charles,  take  pity  upon  me." 

"  It's  always  my  luck  that  if  there  is  to  be  a  block 
or  a  breakdown,  these  eventualities  will  always  occur 
just  when  I've  allowed  five  minutes  for  a  ten  minutes' 
drive ! "  was  Arnold  Smith's  first  remark  after  he  and 
Honora  had  taken  their  places  at  the  oval  table,  which 
to-night  was  decorated  with  an  effective  display 
of  spring  verdure — grasses,  mosses,  and  budding 
branches,  but  not  a  single  flower. 

"  That's  very  unfortunate,  but  you'd  find  it  a  good 
plan  to  allow  fifteen  minutes  for  a  ten  minutes'  drive, 
instead  of  five ! "  answered  Honora  demurely.  She 
rather  liked  this  pleasant-voiced  man  who  was  now 
helping  himself  to  the  largest  and  plumpest  of  the 
proffered  hors  d'ceuvre  sardines. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  165 

Arnold  Smith  laughed  quietly,  and  landed  the  sar- 
dine. 

"  I  always  do  allow  it,"  he  said,  "  but  somehow  I 
never  seem  to  take  advantage  of  my  own  generosity. 
I  believe  I  must  have  been  born  late,  and  feel  sure  I 
shall  be  horribly  behind  time  in  dying !  "  Then  having 
placed  a  dash  of  cayenne  on  the  sardine,  the  late  Roger 
Orlitson's  chum  began  his  dinner. 

Honora  glanced  sideways  at  him,  and  saw  that  his 
clean-shaven  face  was  more  round  than  oval,  that  his 
chin  was  full,  curved,  and  soft — the  chin  of  a  man 
whose  policy  it  would  be  to  let  matters  take  their  course 
— that  his  mouth  retained  the  character  of  his  whole 
face,  and  that  his  centre-parted  hair  was  a  shade 
longer  than  it  ought  to  have  been,  except  in  the  case 
of  a  recognised  follower  of  art. 

One  loop  of  his  tie  showed  vague  symptoms  of  es- 
caping the  pass,  his  centre  stud  wasn't  entirely  through 
the  slit,  and  the  top  button  of  his  waistcoat  was  almost 
undone. 

A  heedless,  careless  man,  but  a  nice  man! 

"  You  are  the  proud  owner  of  several  hundred 
happy  fowls,  are  you  not,  Miss  Vayne?  "  was  the  next 
observation,  made  before  potage  a  la  reine  claimed  his 
attention. 

"  Yes !  But  how  do  you  know  ?  "  exclaimed  Honora 
in  surprise. 

"  For  the  simple  reason  that  when  I  ran  up  against 
Mrs.  Orlitson  at  Claridge's  the  other  day  she  told 
me  that  the  solitude  of  her  flat  was  temporarily 


166  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

shared  by  a  charming  friend  named  Miss  Honora 
Vayne,  who  owned  a  charming  chicken  farm  in 
Sussex." 

"  I  see.  Well,  omitting  the  adjectives,  that  in- 
formation is  quite  correct — I  am  Honora  Vayne,  and 
I  am  the  possessor  of  a  somewhat  badly-managed 
chicken  farm.  Are  you  fond  of  rural  life,  Mr. 
Smith?  " 

"  I  can't  say  I'm  keen.  I  always  keep  to  cities,  if 
I  can,  where  electric  light  and  hot  water  are  laid  on. 
For  some  time  now  I've  been  a  sort  of  loose  end  career- 
ing about  the  globe,  but  I've  never  gone  outside  the 
radius  of  where  electric  light  and  hot  water  are  laid 
on." 

"  Some  people  are  never  meant  to  rough  it.  I  al- 
ways tell  Mrs.  Orlitson  that  she  can " 

"  Yes,  what  do  you  tell  Mrs.  Orlitson  ?  "  came  a  low 
thrilling  voice  from  the  curve  of  the  oval  table.  Kath- 
erine  had  been  babbling  very  satisfactorily  to  the  mono- 
syllabically  cynical  Sir  Charles,  but  when  her  light  grey 
eyes  narrowed  into  slits,  those  slits  were  very  frequently 
turned  in  the  direction  of  Honora  and  the  guest  who 
had  nearly  spoilt  the  salmon. 

"  I  was  saying  to  Mr.  Smith  how  I  always  tell  you 
that  though  you  may  force  yourself  to  be  pictur- 
esquely rural  you  were  never  meant  to  rough  it,"  re- 
plied Honora. 

"  Ah !  but  I  have  roughed  it,"  responded  Katherine, 
bending  forward  with  one  of  those  implike  smiles  touch- 
ing her  lip-salved  mouth.  "  I  remember  spending  one 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  167 

terrible  week  at  a  place  called  Seedlingditch.  It  was 
before  poor  Roger  died,  and  we  were  retrenching  in  a 
rustic  cottage — and  believe  me,  Mr.  Smith,  I  actually 
washed  plates  and  scrubbed  floors!  Can  you  imagine 
my  doing  that?  " 

"  I  might  imagine  your  making  the  effort,  Mrs. 
Orlitson,  but  I  can't  imagine  your  remaining  amiable 
throughout  the  ordeal,"  replied  Honora's  neighbour 
with  a  lazy  laugh. 

"Ah!  well,  I  did I  positively  assert  I  was  a 

paragon  of  industry  and  amiability." 

"  Were  you,  really  ?  " 

The  words  were  innocuous,  but  the  tone  in  which  they 
tfere  uttered  was  full  of  courteous  rudeness. 

Katherine  bubbled  with  laughter. 

"  Yes,  I  was  really,  and — oh !  do  tell  us  that  story 
about  the  lady  who  could  seem  amiable  in  seven  different 
languages  yet  was  really  using  polite  imprecations  all 
the  time!  I  remember  you  told  poor  Roger  and  me 
at  Cairo — it  was  awfully  good !  " 

Mr.  Smith's  face  grew  plump  with  gratification,  and 
as  a  lull  followed  Mrs.  Orlitson's  suggestion,  he  begun 
to  tell  an  excellent  story  with  excellent  point  and  ges- 
ture. 

Everybody  listened,  and  from  that  moment  the  make- 
weight man  was  a  success. 

He  was  an  admirable  raconteur,  and  Katherine 
vaguely  let  it  be  known  that  he  was  an  excellent  singer, 
an  excellent  bridge-player,  an  excellent  golfer,  an  ex- 
cellent, shot,  and  an  excellent  amateur  actor,  till  both 


168  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

Lady  Chesham  and  Mrs.  Percival  decided  that  his  name 
should  be  on  their  next  list  of  invitations. 

Honora  felt  faintly  puzzled.  She  couldn't  quite  make 
out  why  Katherine  was,  in  this  very  subtle  and  skilful 
manner,  advertising  Mr.  Arnold  Smith. 

Probably  no  one  else  was  observing  the  advertising 
process,  but  Honora,  who  knew  most  of  Mrs.  Orlitson's 
methods,  felt  no  doubt  upon  the  subject. 

Mr.  Smith  was  being  puffed. 

In  due  course  the  meal — an  absolutely  successful 
"  little  dinner  " — came  to  its  conclusion,  and  with  the 
snaring  of  Lady  Chesham's  eye  by  Mrs.  Orlitson's  eye 
the  women  rose  and  commenced  their  trail  of  egress. 

Mr.  Smith,  being  nearest  the  door,  gripped  and  held 
the  handle. 

Lady  Chesham — Mrs.  Percival — Miss  Gunway — 
Honora — Katherine. 

But  Honora's  lace  scarf  caught  in  a  carved  oak 
knob,  thus  causing  her  to  turn  round  when  nobody  ex- 
pected her  to  do  anything  but  follow  the  feminine  file. 

She  turned — turned  in  time  to  see  Mrs.  Orlitson's 
left  lid  droop  stealthily  over  her  left  grey  eye,  and  she 
gave  one  swift  glance  up  into  Mr.  Arnold  Smith's  im- 
passive face ! 

Without  doubt  Katherine  must  have  been  quite  inti- 
mately friendly  with  her  late  husband's  chum! 


CHAPTER   XIX 

DR.  SPHAIT  felt  the  pulse  of  a  rural  patient,  prodded 
his  side,  raised  his  eyelids  and  inspected  his  tongue, 
and  taking  more  pains  over  the  treatment  of  this  sim- 
ple rustic  ailment  than  he  would  have  done  in  the  days 
before  Dr.  Amberton  set  up  and  remained  in  Seedling- 
ditch. 

Yes,  it  was  a  fact  that  at  last  another  red  lamp  had 
been  able  to  retain  its  vivid  glow,  and  another  brass 
plate  continued  in  a  condition  of  brilliant,  prosperous 
polish. 

Without  a  doubt  Dr.  Sphait's  popularity  was  on  the 
wane. 

Nothing  concrete  had  occurred  to  bring  about  this 
regrettable  state  of  affairs,  but  it  was  just  that  an- 
other man  had  at  last  snared  the  public  confidence,  and 
though  many  old  patients  retained  their  former  al- 
legiance, most  new-comers  seemed  to  call  in  Dr.  Am- 
berton instead  of  Dr.  Sphait. 

Probably  it  was  merely  one  of  those  inevitable  revo- 
lutions of  fortune's  roulette  wheel  which  ordains  that 
after  a  long  prosperous  run  on  the  red,  a  punter  must 
suffer  an  adverse  run  on  the  black. 

Some  people — look-ahead,  cautious  people — are  able 
to  store  enough  during  the  "  run  on  the  red  "  for  the 
"  run  on  the  black  "  not  to  matter. 

169 


170  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

But  such  wasn't  the  case  with  Dr.  Morgan  T.  B. 
Sphait. 

The  big  scarlet  motor  had  cost  a  lot  of  money  to 
keep  up,  and  though  patients  had  been  plentiful,  Dr. 
Sphait  was  only  a  poor  man's  doctor,  and  the  poor 
man's  doctor  doesn't  find  it  easy  to  hoard. 

Besides,  lately  the  general  practitioner  had  been 
obsessed  by  one  idea.  He  wanted  to  be  a  specialist — 
a  nerve  and  rheumatism  specialist — for,  according  to 
his  theory,  neural  and  rheumatic  disorders  were  abso- 
lutely synonymous. 

There  was  a  certain  treatment — he  had  been  years 
trying  to  find  it  out,  and  now  every  detail  was  per- 
fected— but  not  one  which  could  be  practised  on  poor 
patients. 

It  was  a  treatment  requiring  a  Harley  Street  house, 
a  footman,  and  a  wealthy  clientele. 

But  the  step  from  the  obscurity  of  a  small  country 
surgery  to  the  dignified  roominess  of  a  Harley  Street 
consulting-room  is  a  long  one,  and  Morgan  Sphait 
possessed  neither  means  nor  influence  necessary  for  its 
accomplishment. 

When  the  rural  patient  was  dismissed  with  a  bottle 
of  tonic  and  a  few  cheery  remarks — Dr.  Sphait  still 
bravely  maintained  his  cheeriness — the  large,  ruddy, 
British  looking  man  uttered  a  profound  "  draughty  " 
sigh  which  stirred  the  window  curtains,  and  threw  him- 
self on  the  shabby  American-cloth  covered  sofa. 

He  was  tired,  mentally  and  physically,  and  for  the 
time  being  felt  more  inclined  to  rest  his  big  body,  big 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  171 

limbs,  and  big  brain  than  to  pay  hospitable  atten- 
tions to  his  guest — a  young  newly  qualified  M.  D., 
who  had  come  to  pay  a  brief  visit  with  a  view  to  possi- 
ble partnership,  and  was  now  lolling  discontentedly  in 
the  dining-room  and  thinking  about  the  London  trains. 

For  some  moments  Dr.  Sphait  lay  perfectly  still, 
with  his  very  bright,  quickly  moving  blue  eyes  half 
shut. 

He  was  thinking  hard  his  thoughts — wondering  if 
it  would  be  possible  to  raise  money  or  find  a  philan- 
thropist capable  of  setting  him  up  in  Harley  Street. 

He  must  get  out  of  Seedlingditch. 

A  sort  of  hot  fury  suddenly  raged  within  him,  and 
for  a  moment  he  felt  he  could  never  be  placid  or  cheery 
again. 

Rural  tongues,  rural  chests,  rural  pulses,  rural 
coughs,  rural  babies,  rural  stomachs,  rural  corpses! 
There  had  been  nothing  to  break  the  monotony,  not 
even  one  stimulating  incident  except — except 

A  smile  slowly  found  place  beneath  Dr.  Sphait's 
moustache.  He  was  just  remembering  that  one  inci- 
dent which  a  little  over  a  year  ago  had  given  food  for 
speculative  reflection. 

What  a  smart  woman  she  was ! — that  white-faced 
Mrs.  Orlitson,  who,  after  her  husband's  funeral,  had 
passed  away  from  Seedlingditch  and  its  surroundings! 

"  There  was  a  mystery  about  that  business,"  mused 
the  M.  D.,  who  had  just  reached  that  age  when  people 
begin  to  find  diversion  in  reminiscence.  "  I  often  think 
if  I  hadn't  chanced  to  look  through  that  blind — there 


172  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

couldn't  have  been  any  real  reason  though ! — no  mo- 
tive— but  it  was  odd!  A  smart  woman! — by  Jove! 
what  a  waist !  " 

Dr.  Sphait  half  laughed,  made  a  sensuous,  sibilant 
sound  with  his  lips,  and  stretched  out  one  large  fair- 
haired  hand  to  grasp  the  weekly  roll  of  papers  sent  by 
a  grateful  maiden-lady  patient  whose  poodle  he  had — 
contrary  to  all  laws  of  professional  etiquette — once 
consented  to  attend. 

If  Miss  Cantoose  would  only  express  her  undying 
gratitude  by  means  other  than  Lyra's  Journal,  Hel- 
dorfs  Home  Dressmaker,  Maid's  Friend,  and  Woman's 
Sphere,  the  poodle's  plaster  would  have  been  more 
worth  while,  and — ah!  but  actually  to-day's  bundle  in- 
cluded the  Loose  Spear! 

Dr.  Sphait  swept  Lyra,  Heldon,  &c.,  with  all  their 
enclosures — such  chaste  blouse,  combination,  pinafore, 
and  petticoat  patterns! — to  the  ground  and  languidly 
opened  the  penny  pages  of  Loose  Spear. 

He  wasn't  much  interested  in  sickly  "  pars  "  of  re- 
written copy  concerning  individuals  who,  by  reason  of 
their  money,  vice,  clothes,  talents,  ancestors,  hobbies, 
divorces,  parties,  diamonds,  etc.,  had  attained  the  dis- 
tinction of  being  "  People  " — anyhow  from  a  harassed 
editor's  point  of  view.  But  he  would  just  glance 
through — it  might  be  diverting  to  glance  through. 

Dr.  Sphait  skipped  gentle  anecdotes  concerning 
royalty,  skimmed  details  to  do  with  duchesses,  and  was 
just  turning  on  to  the  "  Topical  Tailoring  "  column 
when  a  name  caught  and  held  his  hurrying  blue  eye. 


THE    WILD    WIDOW  173 


"  MRS.  ORLITSON 


"  Orlitson  "  was  the  name  engraved  on  a  very  simple 
head-stone  in  Seedlingditch  churchyard — it  wasn't  a 
common  name — how  strange,  when  he  had  just  been 
remembering 

Dr.  Sphait  shifted  his  attitude  from  one  of  indolence 
to  alertness,  and  began  to  read: 

"  The  weekly  '  at  homes  '  given  by  Mrs.  Roger  Orlit- 
son at  her  luxurious  flat  in  Holstein  Mansions  are 
becoming  conspicuously  successful  functions,  where 
pretty  women,  smart  men,  celebrities,  and  first-rate 
musicians  are  always  to  be  found.  Mrs.  Orlitson,  who 
has  only  dawned  on  the  social  horizon  this  season,  can 
trace  her  own  ancestors  far  back  into  French  and  Eng- 
lish history,  and  her  late  husband's  family  was  no  less 
distinguished.  Little  more  than  a  year  ago  Mrs.  Orlit- 
son was  left  a  widow  under  sudden  and  distressing  cir- 
cumstances, with  no  means  except  a  comparatively 
small  sum  paid  by  the  firm  with  which  her  husband's 
life  had  been  insured — and  to-day  she  is  a  substantially 
wealthy  woman!  A  successful  roulette  system  skil- 
fully played  at  Monte  Carlo  more  than  doubled  Mrs. 
Orlitson's  capital,  after  which  liberal  investments  in 
those  magic  '  Grey  Rubbers ' — which  have  made  more 
than  a  few  fortunes  within  the  last  ten  months — com- 
pleted this  charming  lady's  good  luck.  Mrs.  Orlitson 
is  very  slight,  with  a  perfect  figure,  pale  spirituelle 
face,  and  quantities  of  exquisite  hair  of  the  exact  shade 
immortalised  by  Burne-Jones.  She  is  a  prominent 
member  of  the  new  Serpentine  Club,  and  is  beginning 


174  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

to  take  her  place  among  the  best-dressed  women  in 
London." 

Dr.  Sphait  laid  aside  the  paper  and  stood  up. 

His  ruddy  face  was  quite  apoplectically  red,  and  he 
tugged  at  his  collar  as  though  the  linen  edge  had  be- 
come too  high  and  too  tight. 

That  house  in  Harley  Street  and  the  wealthy  clien- 
tele seemed  to  have  suddenly  grown  into  tangible  pos- 
sibilities. 

The  man  possessing  some  possible  secret  connected 
with  a  penniless,  unknown  woman  doesn't  hold  an  asset 
that  is  in  the  least  marketable ;  but  when  the  woman 
suddenly  becomes  rich  and  influential — well,  that's 
among  the  other  matters! 

Dr.  Sphait  crossed  the  hall  and  entered  the  dining- 
room,  where  the  newly-made  M.D.  was  disconsolately 
smoking  a  foul  pipe. 

"  Ah !  Chamberton,  just  the  man  I  wanted ! "  cried 
the  general  practitioner  who  yearned  to  become  a  spe- 
cialist. "  Would  you  take  entire  control  here  for  a 
week  or  so?  "  he  continued.  "  I  want  to  run  up  to  town, 
and — and — if  matters  arrange  themselves  satisfac- 
torily, there  is  a  chance  I  may  remain  in  London.  If 
so,  no  doubt  we  could  come  to  some  arrangements? 
Eh?" 

"  Certainly  we  could — delighted !  "  responded  the 
M.  D. 

"  Thanks,  old  chap." 

"  You — er — you've  had  some  good  luck,  I  hope, 
Sphait?" 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  175 

"  Well — er — I  can't  be  sure  yet  awhile — but  there 
seems  a  chance,  a  possible  chance ! " 

"  I'm  jolly  glad  to  hear  it! " 

"  Thanks,  old  fellow !  " 

And  Dr.  Sphait  bellowed  cheerily.  It  was  quite  a 
long  time  since  he  had  bellowed,  but  now  Hope  seemed 
standing  in  the  distance  beckoning  with  a  thin  white 
finger,  the  sound  came  easily  again. 

"  Wonder  if  any  man's  fortune  has  ever  yet  been 
made  by  looking  round  the  side  of  a  blind  and  seeing 
what  he  wasn't  meant  to  see ! "  mused  the  Seedlingditch 
practitioner  who  had  brought  home  Roger  Orlitson's 
dead  body  in  his  great  red  motor-car. 

He  chuckled  to  himself — then  began  mentally  plan- 
ning all  fittings  and  furnishings  for  the  Harley  Street 
consulting- room. 


CHAPTER    XX 

MBS.  ORLITSON  and  Miss  Vayne  were  attending  a 
charity  concert  given  in  the  picture  gallery  of  a  big 
house,  and  several  nods,  smiles,  and  fan-salutes  from 
people  of  importance  evidenced  the  fact  that  the  widow 
with  the  perfect  waist  was  getting  on  very  nicely  in- 
deed, not  only  with  men — Mrs.  Orlitson  troubled  very 
little  about  the  door-opening  sex,  except  from  a  social 
point  of  view — but  also  with  women — which,  in  some 
circumstances,  is  far  more  important. 

When  Mrs.  Orlitson  first  began  to  be  seen  about,  a 
very  general  impression  prevailed  that  a  widow,  a 
young  widow,  a  red-haired  widow,  a  loquacious  widow, 
and  an  unknown  widow  mightn't  be  quite  "  quite " ; 
but  Katherine's  niceness  to  women — the  right  women — 
and  indifference  towards  men  soon  caused  her  to  be 
regarded  as  a  really  "  ducky  thing  "  whom  it  was  de- 
cidedly worth  while  to  know. 

To-day  Mrs.  Orlitson  was  wearing  her  customary 
perfect  black,  with  a  huge  cloche  hat  about  which  a 
black  lace  veil  fell  and  draped  in  a  truly  desirable  man- 
ner. Her  red  hair  was  at  its  best,  and  she  looked  much 
more  than  a  little  distinguished. 

Honora  wore  grey,  gave  the  impression  of  being 
legitimately  beautiful,  and  had  already  suppressed  four 
yawns  during  the  roulades  of  a  large  new  French 
prima  donna. 

176 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  177 

Half  a  syllable  forced  to  do  duty  for  twelve  bars 
of  music  left  her  emotionally  untouched. 

She  looked  round — realised  that  women  with  hand- 
made complexions  should  avoid  the  new  season's  new 
colour  of  framboise  ecrasee,  wondered  why  a  French 
prima  donna  should  look  like  a  British  typist  in  Sun- 
day clothes — and  finally  noted  that  Katherine's 
black  eight-guinea  ostrich  boa  was  lying  on  the  next 
seat. 

Was  the  boa  placed  on  that  seat  by  accident,  or 
was 

The  rest  of  Honora's  mental  question  was  answered 
before  she  asked — because,  just  as  the  French  prima 
donna  had  finished  the  last  "  le  "  of  hirondelle  on  some 
note  quite  outside  the  radius,  Arnold  Smith  lounged 
up  the  red-baized  gangway  and  dropped  into  the  va- 
cant seat. 

Honora  then  understood  the  boa's  placement,  for 
during  the  three  weeks  which  had  passed  since  Mrs. 
Orlitson's  little  dix  diner,  her  late  husband's  chum  was 
often  dropping  into  vacant  seats. 

Honora  returned  his  friendly  bow  bowed  across 
Katherine's  lap,  and  tried  not  to  hear  fragments  of  the 
widow'?-  greeting;  but  as  Mrs.  Orlitson  disliked  whis- 
pering in  public  places  this  effort  was  not  wholly  suc- 
cessful. 

— be  in  time always  late — everything — 

particularly    wanted    you cure    you kept 

seat " 

There  was  no  doubt  that  the  dead  husband's  chum 


178  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

was  being  nagged  by  the  dead  husband's  widow — which 
was  distinctly  odd! 

A  prodigy  violin  child  was  now  beginning  to  play  an 
intricate  something  by  a  composer  whose  name  ended 
with  "  ski,"  and  during  a  cadenza  of  somewhat  smeary 
harmonies  Honora  vaguely  reviewed  the  situation, 
which  was  not  one  she  could  wholly  or  even  partially 
understand. 

Arnold  Smith  was  gradually  becoming  Mrs.  Orlit- 
son's  unenthusiastic  attache,  in  spite  of  the  facts  that 
Katherine  frequently  treated  him  with  an  impatience 
bordering  on  incivility,  and  that  to-day's  sotto  voce 
reprimand  was  not  by  any  means  the  first  which  the 
chum  had  suffered  from  the  widow's  agile  tongue. 

Yet  in  spite  of  this  Katherine  seemed  to  like  the 
witty,  easy-going  attache,  whose  genial  temper  never 
showed  remote  signs  of  being  ruffled  more  than  any  of 
the  other  buzzing  flies  who  hovered  round,  obviously 
desirous  of  sharing  her  matrimonial  and  financial 
jampot. 

She  skilfully  foisted  him  on  all  her  new  friends  and 
acquaintances,  till  it  came  about  that  Katherine  and 
Honora  rarely  attended  any  function  not  graced  by 
the  presence  of  Mr.  Smith. 

Honora  couldn't  understand  it  in  the  very  least,  till 
suddenly  an  idea — born  of  a  friendly  smile  from  Ar- 
nold, which  Katherine  leaned  back  not  to  intercept — 
suggested  itself. 

Was  it  possible  that  Katherine  was  laying  deep 
plans?  Was  she  sorry  for  Honora  because  Bernard 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  179 

had  gone  away,  and  was  she  deftly  putting  forward 
Arnold  Smith  by  way  of  a  possible  consolation?  Was 
this  why  Arnold  Smith  dined  with  frequent  a-trois  in- 
timacy at  Holstein  Mansions? — why  seats  were  kept 
for  him? — why  Katherine  appeared  desirous  of  licking 
him  into  shape  as  regards  unpunctuality  and  general 
dilatoriness  of  method? 

If  Mrs.  Orlitson  did  match-make,  her  methods  would 
without  doubt  be  of  the  most  subtle  and  skilful  variety. 
She  would  never  make  the  egregious  mistake  of  throw- 
ing one  person  at  another  person's  head,  and  it  would 
be  quite  possible  for  the  two  victims  to  find  themselves 
cremated  by  Hymen's  torch  before  they  even  guessed 
that  Mrs.  Orlitson  was  engineering  the  whole  busi- 
ness. 

The  prodigy  was  now  performing  a  very  unneces- 
sary pizzicato  passage,  and  with  every  quick  curt  note 
it  seemed  to  Honora  as  though  a  quick  curt  stab  was 
being  thrust  into  her  heart — for  no  agony  could  be 
more  poignant  than  the  idea  that  Bernard  Ben- 
stead's  sister  was  trying  to  foist  her  on  to  another 
man. 

When  the  concert  was  over  and  Mrs.  Orlitson  had 
made  two  or  three  engagements  en  route  from  the  pic- 
ture gallery  to  the  side  entrance  near  the  stables — 
which  was  the  only  spot  of  egress  and  ingress  which 
Lord  Redhaven  thought  worth  while  to  put  at  the  dis- 
posal of  charity — she  suggested  that  Mr.  Smith  should 
go  home  with  them  instead  of  standing  them  unsatis- 
factory tea  and  cakes  at  two  shillings  per  head. 


180  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

Mr.  Smith  agreed  without  any  display  of  apprecia- 
tion— he  never  appeared  to  appreciate  Mrs.  Orlitson's 
favours,  which  was  possibly  the  reason  they  were  so 
persistently  bestowed — and  a  few  minutes  later  they 
were  gliding  Parkwards  on  silent  wheels. 

"  You  look  awfully  glum,  Honora  dear,  but  it  suits 
you,  doesn't  it,  Mr.  Smith?  Only  really  good-looking 
people  can  be  glum  effectively.  What  upset  you?— 
the  prima  donna's  celestial  efforts,  or  the  prodigy's 
squeaks,  or  Lady  Grenmayo's  hat? — or  was  it  Mrs. 
Corr-Linto's  theft?  Just  fancy,  Mr.  Smith " — here 
Mrs.  Orlitson  turned  her  volubility  on  to  the  back 
seat — "  Mrs.  Corr-Linto  is  the  hon.  treasurer  person, 
so  I  sent  her  my  cheque — made  out  to  herself — for 
two  seats  at  the  last  moment,  saying  I'd  come  early  and 
ask  for  my  tickets  at  the  improvised  bureau  place. 
We  came  early,  but  there  was  no  asking  for  tickets, 
because  Mrs.  Corr-Linto,  beaming,  purring,  and  coo- 
ing, met  us  in  the  hall,  waved  aside  the  question  of 
tickets  in  a  manner  suggesting  that  we  were  too  su- 
preme for  such  conventionalities — personally  conducted 
us  to  a  couple  of  seats — chatted  a  moment,  then  beamed, 
purred,  and  cooed  off  again.  Obvious !  See  the  point  ? 
Why,  of  course,  in  returning  her  unsold  tickets  Mrs 
Corr-Linto  gives  up  mine  instead  of  my  cheque,  and 
that  cheque,  made  out  to  Mrs.  Corr-Linto,  purchases 
two  guinea's  worth  of  gloves  or  veils!  One  of  the 
cutest  dodges  I've  seen !  Daddy  B.  V.  would  just  revel 
in  it,  wouldn't  he?  Mr.  Smith,  do  make  some  comment 
or  remark !  " 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  181 

Mr.  Smith  stroked  his  upper  lip,  as  though  he  missed 
a  moustache  which  had  once  been  there. 

"  You  make  so  many,  Mrs.  Orlitson,  that  there's 
very  little  time  for  other  orators  to  get  their  innings," 
he  replied  genially. 

Katherine  screwed  up  most  of  her  features,  then 
turned  to  Honora. 

"  Insolent  person,  isn't  he?  "  she  slurred  out. 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  was  Honora's  equable  response. 
She  knew  Katherine's  condemnation  belonged  to  the 
same  order  as  that  of  a  fond  father  who  alludes  to  his 
daughter  as  "  an  extravagant  little  devil  " — it  was  the 
condemnation  of  cordiality;  and  with  this  new  notion, 
which  was  now  filling  her  mind,  she  had  no  intention 
of  aiding  and  abetting  any  cordiality. 

Arnold  laughed. 

"  Miss  Vayne  is  severe — she  won't  even  acknowledge 
that  I'm  insolent,"  he  said,  with  the  dinner-party  note 
of  cynicism  in  his  voice. 

Honora  flushed.  She  felt  she  was  being  made  fun 
of  in  the  most  friendly  way  imaginable. 

"  Luxurious  method  of  getting  about  this,  isn't  it  ?  " 
was  Arnold  Smith's  next  remark,  as  the  mute-wheeled 
car  shot  in  and  out  of  Piccadilly  traffic  with  the  beauti- 
ful grace  of  a  sinuous  dancer. 

"  Yes,  isn't  it  ?  "  answered  Katherine,  while  a  very  in- 
tense expression  shot  into  her  light  grey  ineffective 
eyes.  "  When  I  used  to  take  a  *  penn'orth  '  of  motor 
'bus,  I'd  try  to  lean  back  and  pretend  I  was  spinning 
along  in  a  little  car  like  this.  My  heavens,  how  hard 


182  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

I  used  to  pretend,  and  want,  and  yearn,  and  long!  I 
don't  think  any  woman  ever  yearned  for  life's  luxuries 
so  much  before !  " 

For  a  moment  this  red-haired  widow  with  the  perfect 
waist  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that  she  was  addressing 
an  audience  of  two  people  who  should  presumably  have 
no  place  among  the  strange  vicissitudes  of  her  strange 
career.  It  was  as  though  amidst  the  frivolities  and 
flippancies  of  this  comparatively  new  vie  de  luxe  she 
suddenly  came  face  to  face  with  the  past  and  all  its 
strenuous  mistakes  and  yearnings — as  though  a  sort 
of  superstitious  influence  demanded  that  she  must  ver- 
bally acknowledge  her  luck. 

"  Yes,  I  wanted  it  horribly,"  she  went  on,  "  and  there 
were  times  at  Seedlingditch " — here  she  half  uncon- 
sciously addressed  the  man  on  the  back  seat — "  when 
I  wished  so  hard,  that  no  power  seemed  left  for  any- 
thing except  wishing!  But  I've  got  what  I  wanted, 
and  if  ever  it  were  taken  away — God  only  knows  what 
would  be  the  result,  and " 

"  But  as  it's  never  likely  to  be  taken  away,  Mrs. 
Orlitson,  I  should  think  it  would  be  better  not  to  con- 
template eventualities — silence  and  repression  are  al- 
ways safe ! "  broke  in  Arnold  Smith's  quite  easy,  quite 
languid  voice. 

Katherine  looked  dazed  for  a  second — like  a  person 
suddenly  waking  from  the  effects  of  gas  after  the  ex- 
traction of  a  tooth — her  eyes  met  the  gentlemanly, 
genial  eyes  of  the  late  Roger  Orlitson's  chum — a  mo- 
mentary wave  of  colour  stole  beneath  the  clear  skin  of 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  183 

her  white  face — then,  for  once,  she  actually  refrained 
from  talking  during  the  space  of  two  whole  moments — 
and  when  those  moments  were  ended  the  mute  brougham 
came  to  a  mute  halt  in  front  of  Holstein  Mansions. 

But  this  time  Mrs.  Orlitson  was  quite  normal 
again. 

"  We'll  have  tea  in  the  *  bood ' ! "  she  cried,  leading 
the  way  into  that  rampantly  inartistic  apartment  into 
which  not  one  single  intinie  had  ever  been  permitted 
to  penetrate. 

But  Mr.  Arnold  Smith  formed  an  exception  to  this 
rule — in  fact,  one  very  huge  violently  upholstered  cane 
lounge  chair  was  already  his  established  resting  place, 
and  now,  from  her  new  point  of  view,  Honora  saw  in 
these  privileges  merely  concessions  made  for  her  sake. 

"  I'm  going  to  unhat,  so  you  two  can  babble  banal- 
ities while  I'm  away ! "  said  Katherine  when  they 
reached  the  only  room  in  the  flat  which  was  truly  and 
vulgarly  comfortable.  "  If  the  tea  comes,  Hon,  do 
plop  in  a  lump  of  sugar  to  draw  the  blackness  out — 
my  nerves  demand  black  tea.  Ta-ta !  " 

But  this  concluding  salutation  was  unnecessary,  be- 
cause no  sooner  had  Mrs.  Orlitson  reached  her  de- 
corously furnished  bedroom  than  Honora  knocked  at 
and  opened  the  door. 

"What!  Deserted  the  poor  Smith  person!"  was 
Katherine's  ejaculation. 

Honora  shut  the  door,  crossed  the  room,  and  gripped 
a  chair  back. 

"  Katherine,  I — I  want  to  ask  you  something,"  she 


184  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

began,  with  a  whole  gamut  of  feminine  emotions  in  her 
voice. 

"  All  right,  my  beloved,  but  don't  speak  in  those 
legitimate  drama  tones!  What  is  it?  " 

"Wh — why — er — what  is  this  about  Mr.  Smith?  " 

Katherine's  silver  comb  inset  with  turquoises  fell 
with  a  clatter  on  to  the  silver  pin  tray,  while  her  light 
grey  eyes  looked  startled  and  full  of  a  sudden  fear. 

"  What  about  him  ?  How  ?  "  she  queried  sharply, 
and  without  a  slur  or  rumble  in  her  tones.  It  was  the 
sharpness,  clearness,  and  tenseness  of  alarm. 

"  You — you  are  encouraging  him  here  for  my  sake 
— you — you  want  to — to  make  him  marry  me,  and  I — 
I  prefer  to  go  back  to  Sussex  at  once ! "  and  as  Honora 
made  her  accusation  she  looked  particularly  young  and 
particularly  forlorn. 

Katherine  stared  at  her  for  some  consecutive  mo- 
ments; then,  as  the  startled  fear  filtered  away  from 
her  grey  eyes,  she  broke  into  prolonged  peals  of  abso- 
lutely uncheckable  laughter. 

"  My  dear  beloved  young  dark-eyed  donkey,  you've 
got  a  mare's  nest  big  enough  to  hold  hundreds  of  foals 
into  your  head !  "  she  cried.  "  It's  really  funny,  truly, 
deliciously,  joyously  funny!  Oh!  oh!  you  entertaining 
little  imbecile !  You  don't  know  how  imbecile  you  are !  " 

Honora  looked  less  and  less  forlorn  during  this  sen- 
tence, and  when  Mrs.  Orlitson  once  more  broke  into 
peals  of  laughter,  an  answering  smile  crept  to  the  cor- 
ners of  her  own  mouth. 

"  I've  made  a  mistake  then  ? — you  really  aren't  try- 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  185 

ing  to  get  me  off — to  foist  me  on  to  Mr.  Smith  ?  "  she 
murmured. 

Katherine's  peals  merged  into  ripples,  and  the  rip- 
ples only  interspersed  her  remarks. 

"  No,  I  really  am  not,"  she  answered,  "  and  I  truly 
assure  you,  my  very  dear  foolish  one,  that  I  should  not 
be  in  the  least  elated  if  you  were  foisted  on  to  Arnold 
Smith.  In  fact,  to  tell  you  the  exact  truth,  I  should  be 
distinctly  annoyed!  Now  don't  ask  any  questions,  but 
run  away  and  be  brotherly  to  Arnold  Smith,  and  keep 
your  heart  nice  and  empty  for  the  time  when  Berr 
comes  back — for  he  will  come  back,  as  surely  as 
my  age  isn't  what  I  say  it  is!  Now  kiss  me — and 
bolt!" 

And  Honora,  whose  heart  had  greatly  depreciated  in 
weight  since  the  beginning  of  the  conversation,  did 
both,  and  on  returning  to  "  the  bood,"  found  Mr.  Arr 
nold  Smith  still  in  the  lounge  chair — the  back  of  which 
was  turned  toward  the  door — with  his  feet  hoisted  on 
an  inlaid  ebony  stool  and  a  pipe  in  his  mouth! 

He  heard  the  door  open  without  turning  round. 

"  I'm  making  myself  beautifully  chez  moi,  you  see, 
Kits "  he  began,  when  Honora  made  a  very  hon- 
ourable rustle  to  reveal  her  personality.  "  Pardon, 
Miss  Vayne — thought  it  was  Mrs.  Orlitson,"  he  broke 
off,  rising  to  his  feet  and  immediately  becoming  normal 
and  conventional.  "  Perhaps  it's  a  good  let-off  for  me 
that  it  wasn't  Mrs.  Orlitson,  because  though  we  all  got 
to  the  '  Kits,'  '  Roger,'  and  '  Arnold  '  state  of  intimacy 
when  poor  Orlitson  was  alive,  it's  quite  possible  his 


186  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

widow  wouldn't  permit  such  familiarities,  and — oh!  er 
— my  pipe — I'm  awfully,  frantically  sorry " 

"  Please  don't  put  it  out  for  me,"  interposed  Honora 
good  humouredly.  "  I  only  glanced  at  it  because  I 
was  wondering  if  Katherine " 

"Yes,  what's  that  about  Katherine?"  broke  in  a 
low,  slurring  voice  from  the  doorway.  Mrs.  Orlitson 
had  got  rid  of  the  large  hat  and  the  large  veil,  and  now 
came  towards  them  with  her  thin  chin  stuck  forward 
and  her  hair  puffed  out  in  all  its  red  magnificence. 

Honora  explained. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  don't  mind  pipes  in  here — in  fact,  to  be 
really  truthful  for  once,  I  revel  in  them!  But  they 
must  be  foul,  pungent  things  that  make  people  with 
Early  Victorian  throats  choke  and  gurgle!  I  adore 
foul  pipes,  so  as  Honora  doesn't  mind,  Mr.  Smith,  and 
as  you  were  a  chum  of  poor  Roger's,  you  may  always 
bring  out  your  clays  and  shag  when  you  are  admitted 
into  the  seclusion  of  this  apartment!  The  only  thing 
I  request  is  that  you  won't  let  the  pipe  hang  down  one 
side  of  your  mouth  and  make  you  look  like  a  rub- 
ber-faced man  out  of  a  cracker!  Ha!  ha-ha-ha-ha- 
ha " 

And  with  an  indefinite  number  of  little  gurgles  Mrs. 
Orlitson  threw  herself  on  a  much  bepillowed  and  be- 
cushioned  lounge,  after  pushing  Honora  into  a  big 
rush  chair  fashioned  like  a  shell. 

Presently  tea  came  in,  and  Honora  couldn't  help  ob- 
serving with  what  Sultan-like  indolence  Arnold  Smith 
retained  his  domestic  lolling  attitude  while  Katherine 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  187 

made  the  requisite  sandwich  of  milk  and  cream  with  tea 
in  the  middle. 

But  Mrs.  Orlitson  appeared  to  demand  nothing  of 
her  late  husband's  chum,  and  actually  waited  on  him 
with  that  fussily  maternal  solicitude  which  is  displayed 
by  comparatively  passionless  women  towards  stray 
cats,  bed-ridden  cooks,  paralysed  husbands,  and  other 
dependent  creatures  who  never  argue,  never  pry,  never 
warn,  and  never  nag. 

During  tea  Arnold  Smith  lay  back  in  the  huge  chair, 
and  as  his  plump,  soft  white  hands  hovered  over  the 
sandwiches  and  cakes  to  finally  select  the  largest  and 
most  succulent  morsels,  a  flowing  stream  of  intensely 
humorous  and  witty  anecdotes  left  his  lips. 

Most  good  stories  were  related  as  being  absolute 
facts,  thus  giving  evidence  of  the  man's  supreme  fic- 
tional ability. 

Katherine  kept  up  one  long  serialised  gurgle  of 
amusement,  while  for  the  time  Honora  forgot  her  own 
low  spirits. 

The  late  Roger  Orlitson's  chum  was  really  a  most 
entertaining  person ! 

"  You're  like  a  man  in  a  fairy  tale  I  used  to  read  in 
my  premiere  jeunesse,"  said  Katherine  when  Arnold 
ceased  speaking  in  order  to  drink  strong  tea  and  cream 
with  feminine  relish.  "  His  name  was  Timothy,  and  he 
told  such  enthralling  stories  that  the  court  engaged 
him  to  amuse  their  king  when  he  was  dying  of  melan- 
cholia— and  he  talked,  and  talked,  and  talked,  till  the 
king  got  well  and  bestowed  on  him  the  grand  order  of 


188  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

the  Speaking  Eagle,  and  proclaimed  that  from  hence- 
forth he  was  to  be  known  as  '  Talking  Tim.'  You  are 
just  like  him,  so  I  shall  drop  *  Mr.  Smith  '  and  call  you 
'  Tim  V  " 

"  Right !  Then  may  I  drop  *  Mrs.  Orlitson  '  and  re- 
turn to  *  Kits  '?  Roger  gave  me  permission,  you  re- 
member? " 

"Yes,  yes — of  course  I  remember,  and  I  wouldn't 
for  the  world  withdraw  any  of  my  poor  boy's  conces- 
sions, so — so — from  this  time  forward  it's  '  Tim  '  and 
*  Kits ' !  Much  more  convenient,  eh,  my  big-eyed 
Honora?  " 

"  Ever  so  much,"  responded  Honora,  who  was  be- 
ginning to  wonder  a  good  many  things — among  them 
how,  if  such  a  contingency  arose,  Katherine  would  like 
to  change  the  effective  name  of  "  Orlitson  "  for  the  in- 
effective name  of  " Smith" 

"  Miss  Vayne's  approbation  settles  the  matter  then," 
said  "  Tim,"  as  he  rose  heavily  from  the  big  chair, 
uttering  a  ponderous  sigh,  as  though  the  exertion  of 
getting  up  had  somewhat  overtaxed  his  strength. 

"  Must  you  be  going  ?  "  asked  Katherine. 

"  Yes,  I've  got  an  appointment  with  a  man  at  the 
club  for  5.30." 

"Have  you?  Poor  man!  D'you  know  the  time 
now?" 

"  I  could  find  out  if  I  looked  at  my  watch — oh !  no  I 
couldn't.  I  broke  the  mainspring  last  night " 

"  Well,  look  at  my  clock,  and  you'll  see  it's  already 
seven  minutes  to  six!  "  At  this  point  acidity  entered 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  180 

Katharine's  voice,  and  the  maternal  look  in  her  light 
grey  eyes  had  departed. 

"  By  Jove !  So  it  is !  What  a  confounded  nuisance 
Lawson  is,  always  making  appointments  at  awkward 
times !  Oh,  well,  if  I  take  a  taximeter  I  shan't  be  more 
than  half  an  hour  late.  Au  revoir,  Miss  Vayne;  au 
revoir,  Kits — see  you  to-night  somewhere,  I  suppose — 
good-bye ! "  and  without  hurrying  any  more  than  if 
he  had  been  thirty  minutes  early  for  an  appointment 
instead  of  thirty  minutes  late,  Arnold  Smith  sauntered 
out  of  the  glaring  boudoir,  and  a  few  moments  after- 
wards out  of  the  gravely  furnished  flat. 

"  The  man's  a  fool ! "  was  Katherine's  verdict. 

"  I  can't  agree  with  you,"  responded  Honora,  as  the 
door  opened  and  Mrs.  Orlitson's  rigid  footman  entered 
the  room. 

"  A  gentleman  wishes  to  see  you,  madame,"  he  an- 
nounced. 

"Does  he?    Where  is  he?" 

"  In  the  drawing-room,  madame." 

"Oh!    And  his  name?" 

Hendry  thrust  forward  a  salver — on  the  salver  was 
a  visiting  card,  and  on  the  visiting  card  was  engrossed 
a  name  and  an  address : 


DR.  MORGAN  B.   SPHAIT 


CONKER   HOUSE, 
SEEDLINGDITCH 


CHAPTER    XXI 

IT  is  not  easy  for  a  pale  woman  to  turn  pale ;  there- 
fore she  usually  takes  refuge  in  turning  yellowy-green 
under  the  stress  of  any  particular  emotion — and  such 
was  the  high-art  shade  which  spread  over  Mrs.  Orlit- 
son's  face  as  she  took  the  visiting  card  from  the  silver 
salver. 

Three  full  seconds  passed ;  then  she  spoke  clearly  and 
not  quickly. 

"  Tell  Dr.  Sphait  I  will  be  with  him  in  a  moment." 

The  footman  retired,  and  Katherine  still  remained 
looking  at  the  visiting  card,  till,  on  glancing  up,  she 
found  enquiry  in  Honora's  eyes. 

"  Oh,  dear,  it  quite  *  gave  me  a  turn,'  as  the  servants 
say ! "  she  cried,  when  the  normal  pallor  had  returned 
to  her  face  and  the  slurring  indistinctness  to  her  voice. 
"  Just  fancy,  the  big  fat  pink  doctor  wh — who  saw  my 
poor  Roger — afterwards,  you  know!  It's  a  bad  shock 
to  be  suddenly  brought  face  to  face  with  tragic  chunks 
of  one's  past,  isn't  it?  I  wonder  what  he's  come  for 
— what  he  wants !  I  must  go  and  see,  and  hustle  him 
off  as  soon  as  possible,  then  scramble  into  clothes." 

"  Don't  let  him  distress  you,"  said  Honora,  as  they 
left  the  room  together.  She  instinctively  felt  that  her 
red-haired  friend  was  in  the  midst  of  emotional  moments. 

Katherine  squeezed  her  arm;  then  when  Honora  had 
passed  down  the  passage  leading  to  her  own  room,  Mrs. 

190 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  191 

Orlitson  gave  her  thin  shoulders  a  curious,  resolute 
jerk,  bit  her  salved  lips  to  intensify  their  redness,  stuck 
out  her  thin  chin,  and  walked  forward  with  special 
movements  tending  to  increase  the  rustling  propensi- 
ties of  silk  underskirts. 

She  opened  the  drawing-room  door,  entered,  and  then 
held  out  her  hand  with  welcoming  cordiality. 

Just  for  a  second  Dr.  Sphait  seemed  ill  at  ease — as 
though  oppressed  by  the  country  cut  of  his  garments, 
the  refinement  of  Mrs.  Orlitson's  furniture,  and  the  ex- 
pensiveness  of  Mrs.  Orlitson's  clothes. 

But  immediately  afterwards  the  man's  large  personal- 
ity and  self-assurance  got  the  better  of  this  oppression. 

"  How  nice  of  you  to  look  me  up  after  all  this  time!  " 
began  Katherine,  smiling  her  quick,  insincere  smile  right 
up  into  his  face. 

Dr.  Sphait  retained  her  hand  a  second,  and  let  his 
eyes  stray  to  the  perfection  of  her  waist,  which  was 
twice  as  perfect  now  that  eight-guinea  corsets  replaced 
the  former  seven  shillings  and  eleven-pence  halfpenny 
variety. 

"  I  was  up  in  town,  saw  your  name  and  address  in 
one  of  the  society  papers,  and  ventured  to  call  and  see 
how  you  were,"  replied  the  general  practitioner  in  his 
cheeriest  of  cheery  bedside  voices. 

"  That  was  really  nice  of  you !  Sit  down,  Dr.  Sphait, 
and  tell  me  all  your  news." 

Dr.  Sphait  selected  a  large  armless  chair,  and  sat 
down. 

"  I've  very  little  news  to  tell,  Mrs.  Orlitson ;  so  little 


192  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

happens  in  Seedlingditch,  as  perhaps  you  will  re- 
member." 

"  I  hardly  do  remember,  because,  excepting  Seedling- 
ditch's  doctor,  I've  almost  forgotten  everything  about 
Seedlingditch ! " 

"  You  want  to  forget,  perhaps,  Mrs.  Orlitson  ? " 
Dr.  Sphait  was  examining  a  tray  of  dull  Russian  enamel 
as  he  put  the  query. 

"  Yes,  it  is  always  better  to  forget  the  shocks  and 
sadness  of  life,  isn't  it?  And  about  yourself.  Are  you 
still  curing  everyone  for  hundreds  of  miles  all  round 
the  country  ?  " 

"  No,  I  regret  to  say  that  someone  else  is  curing  them 
now — at  least,  of  course,  I  insist  they  are  being  killed, 
not  cured!  Ha!  ha!" 

"  Of  course  they're  being  killed !  But  I'm  sorry  to 
hear  that,  though  I  don't  suppose  it  matters  much  to 
you " 

"  Ah !  but  it  does ! — that's  where  you  are  wrong,  Mrs. 
Orlitson,  and  that's  why  I  am  so  anxious  to  leave 
Seedlingditch." 

"  Leave  Seedlingditch ! "  It  wasn't  often  that 
Katherine  was  guilty  of  banal  parrot-like  repetiton,  but 
just  then  there  seemed  nothing  else  to  say. 

"  Yes,  I  want  to  set  up  as  a  Harley  Street  specialist 
— a  neural  and  rheumatic  specialist !  " 

"Do  you  really?  Well,  that's  a  splendid  notion, 
and  I  wish  you  bewildering  success!  I'll  have  nerves 
and  enlarged  joints  every  day  of  the  week!  Ha!  ha! 
ha-ha-ha-ha " 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  193 

"  Ha !  ha !  That's  kind  of  you,  Mrs.  Orlitson,  for 
though  I  hope  there  won't  be  any  need  for  you  to  pay 
me  professional  visits,  I  am  glad  to  hear  your  patron- 
age will  be  extended  to  a  poor  struggler.  I  am  depend- 
ing on  your  help,  Mrs.  Orlitson !  " 

The  last  seven  words  were  uttered  slowly  and  without 
emphasis  or  expression,  but  as  he  spoke  Dr.  Sphait  fixed 
two  not  large  but  very  clear  and  very  frank  blue  eyes 
on  the  red-haired  widow's  face. 

"  I'm  afraid  you'll  find  me  a  very  poor  reed,  but  any 
little  thing  I  can  do " 

"  You  can  do  a  great  deal,  Mrs.  Orlitson.  I  require 
capital  to  start  this  enterprise,  I  require  influence  and 
recommendation  to  keep  me  floated  when  once  it  is 
started,  and  it  is  to  you — to  the  rich  lady  who,  by  her 
brilliant  powers  of  resource,  has  made  a  comparatively 
small  insurance  compensation  into  a  large  fortune — 
that  I  venture  to  apply.  You  vill  help  me,  Mrs.  Orlit- 
son, I  know." 

"  Why?  " 

That  one  word  fell  sharply,  clearly,  and  in  its  utter- 
ance was  a  note  of  challenge. 

Dr.  Sphait  coughed,  glanced  half  commiseratingly  at 
the  red-haired  woman  with  the  perfect  waist,  then 
answered  in  sauve,  woolly  tones  that  were  rarely  heard 
in  Seedlingditch. 

"  Because  of  your  kind  heart,  Mrs.  Orlitson — do  let 
it  rest  at  your  kind  heart ! "  he  answered. 

"  I  do  not  wish  it  to  rest  at  my  kind  heart — my  heart 
isn't  kind ! " 


194  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  Isn't  it  ? — then  I  must  venture  to  trade  on  other 
emotions.  Do  you  remember,  Mrs.  Orlitson,  that  on  the 
night  after  I  had  brought  home  your  husband's  body 
in  the  afternoon  it  was  agreed  that  I  should  send  you 
a  composing  draught  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  remember — y  es." 

"  You  were  alone  in  the  house,  you  may  recollect, 
quite  alone  in  the  house  with  the  dead  body  of  your 
husband — a  most  terrible  ordeal  for  a  delicately  strung 
woman ! " 

"Yes— well?" 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Orlitson,  instead  of  sending  that 
draught  I  came  back  with  it  myself,  but  before  I 
knocked  at  the  door  I  was  seized  by  an  impulse  of 
curiosity." 

"  How— wh " 

"I  went  up  to  the  little  parlour  window,  which  you 
may  remember  was  situated  at  the  side  of  the  cottage, 
and  looked — ahem !  I  looked,  Mrs.  Orlitson,  through  a 
slit  in  the  blind,  a  slit  through  which  it  was  possible 
to  see  the  whole  room  and  everyone  in  it!  " 

There  was  a  silence — quite  an  appreciable  silence, 
after  which  the  red-haired  widow  rose. 

"  Come  into  my  little  boudoir,  Dr.  Sphait — we  can 
talk  there  more  quietly  and  without  fear  of  interrup- 
tion," she  said. 

And  Morgan  B.  Sphait,  with  a  smile  on  his  face — 
rather  a  fatuous  smile — followed  her  across  the  hall. 

Meanwhile,  Honora,  in  her  own  room  at  the  further 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  195 

end  of  the  curved  corridor,  was  doing  her  own  hair 
while  she  thought  her  own  thoughts. 

They  were  complicated  thoughts — sometimes  turning 
in  this  direction,  sometimes  in  that,  without  ever  reach- 
ing any  definite  resting-place. 

Every  day  the  conviction  grew  upon  her  that  candid 
Katherine  Orlitson,  who  made  so  many  ingenuous  boasts 
concerning  her  own  frankness,  was  developed  in  mystery 
as  well  as  flowing  veils. 

But  the  secret,  whatever  it  might  be,  was  entirely  per- 
sonal and  unshared  by  Bernard.  Honora  felt  abso- 
lutely sure  that  Bernard  knew  nothing  except  what  he 
had  been  told  by  his  candid  sister,  and  she  felt  equally 
sure  that  Arnold  Smith  was  very  certainly  mixed  up  with 
Katherine  Orlitson's  past. 

But  how  was  he  mixed  up?  He  had  certainly  met 
and  become  intimate  with  the  Orlitsons  during  their 
honeymoon,  but  that  would  hardly  account  for — some 
things ! 

Katherine  had  vaguely  alluded  to  their  re-meeting  at 
the  Carlton,  and  Arnold  had  vaguely  alluded  to  their 
remeeting  at  the  Savoy ;  but,  whichever  statement  might 
have  been  accurate  this  casual  re-meeting  hardly  ac- 
counted for  such  quickly  revived  intimacy. 

In  her  own  mind  Honora  felt  sure  that  the  red-haired 
widow  and  her  dead  husband's  chum  had  seen  each  other 
since  the  bygone  honeymoon  trip,  and  before  the  pre- 
sumed accidental  meeting  at  a  fashionable  restaurant. 

But  if  they  had  seen  each  other,  where  was  it,  and 
when  was  it? 


196  THE     WILD    WIDOW 

At  this  moment  Honora  suddenly  remembered  Mrs. 
Burham,  who  had  been  sent  away  by  one  of  her  papers 
to  write  up  a  new  Cairo  Hotel,  and  who,  on  arriving  at 
"  The  Regal,"  had  immediately  developed  symptoms  of 
scarlet  fever,  and  was  still  hors  de  combat  in  an  isolated 
flat  over  a  stable,  while  the  three  marriageable  daughters 
who  didn't  marry,  carried  on  the  "  par  "  business  as 
satisfactorily  as  possible  during  their  indefatigable 
mother's  peeling  process. 

Yes,  Honora  remembered  Mrs.  Burham,  and  Mrs. 
Burham's  nearly  libellous  statement  to  the  effect  that  at 
a  secluded  country  hotel  she  had  seen 

At  this  juncture  Honora  pulled  her  thoughts  to- 
gether with  a  jerk,  and  stamped  one  foot  with  the 
sharpness  of  self-annoyance. 

"  What  right  have  I  to  probe  and  pry  into  another 
woman's  secrets  ?  "  she  asked  of  her  own  reflection  in 
the  glass.  "  Should  I  like  my  miserable  story  dragged 
out  of  its  hiding  place  and  commented  upon  and  won- 
dered about?  If  Katherine  Orlitson  is  a  woman  with  a 
story,  so  am  I!  We  are  two  women  with  two  stories, 
and  it's  only  fair  to  one  to  leave  the  other  alone.  I 
won't  wonder  any  more — I'll  just  accept  her  as  she  ac- 
cepts me ! "  And  having  made  this  resolution  she 
dressed  the  Empire  curls  of  her  effective  hair  and 
slipped  into  a  black  dinner  frock — a  dinner  frock  free 
from  all  those  extra  adjuncts  and  adornments  which 
betray  the  amount  of  interest  a  woman  feels  in  life. 

Five  minutes  later  Honora  was  dressed  and  passing 
from  her  room  just  as  Mrs.  Orlitson,  followed  by  a  large 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  197 

man,  left  the  boudoir  and  stood  in  the  square  lounge  hall 
talking  about  London  air  compared  with  country  air, 
till  she  caught  sight  of  Honora. 

"  Hon !    Come  here !  "  she  cried. 

Honora  advanced  slowly,  looking  nearly  beautiful  in 
her  undecorated  black  gown. 

"  I  want  to  introduce  Dr.  Morgan  D. — no,  '  B.,'  isn't 
it? — Sphait  to  you — the  cleverest  doctor  in  Big  Britain, 
who  is  very  wisely  going  to  abandon  general  practi- 
tionering  in  order  to  set  up  as  a  Harley  Street  special- 
ist for  rheumatism  and  nerves !  He's  so  clever  that  I 
quite  begin  to  yearn  to  suffer  and  be  cured !  " 

Honora  bowed,  Dr.  Sphait  bowed,  and  the  red-haired 
widow,  whose  light  eyes  were  glittering,  continued  a 
running  fire  of  smiles. 


CHAPTER    XXII 

AFTER  inspecting  the  chicken  farm  during  one  of 
her  bi-weekly  visits,  Honora  realised  that  even  though 
Mary  Tryke  and  her  husband  were  getting  through 
quite  the  regulation  amount  of  cheating  and  sharp  prac- 
tice, financial  conditions  were  improved. 

Profits  were  increasing  and  expenditure  decreasing, 
a  satisfactory  state  of  things  which  would  undoubtedly 
be  reversed  directly  the  proprietress  came  back  to  take 
up  the  reins  of  management. 

"  Everything  seems  to  be  going  very  well,  Tryke," 
commented  Honora,  as  armies  of  young  giddy  chicks 
fluttered  and  strutted  on  every  side. 

"  Aye,  miss,  better  than  they  done  for  over  a  twelve- 
month," was  Tryke's  tactless  response. 

Honora  smiled  with  the  genuine  amusement  of  a 
woman  who  has  never  learned  the  "  progressive  "  and 
lucrative  art  of  conceit. 

"  And  you  attribute  that  to  my  absence,  Tryke  ?  " 
she  queried. 

"Well,  miss,  there's  something  in  the  old  saying 
about  too  many  cooks  a-spoiling  the  broth,  though  of 
course  it  wouldn't  be  for  me  to  say " 

"  No,  no,  of  course  it  wouldn't.  Well,  I  shan't  be 
back  just  yet,  so  the  farm  has  got  a  few  more  weeks 
of  prosperity  before  it.  Good-bye,  Mary;  good-bye, 
Tryke,  and  remember  to  keep  on  sending  the  eggs  every 

198 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  199 

day  to  Mrs.  Orlitson — good-bye!"  And  as  Honora 
stepped  into  the  square,  lumbering  station  fly,  which  had 
been  ordered  to  fetch  her  in  time  for  the  5.20  train,  the 
red  Sussex  rooster  flew  on  to  a  high  wall  and  crowed  his 
usual  crow. 

"  Cock-a-doodle-do! "  Was  this  a  discourteous 

method  of  speeding  a  parting  proprietress  or 

"  Cock-a-doodle-doo-oo-oo-oO !  " — or  was  it  an  omen 
of  some  coming  triumph — some  imminent  piece  of  good 
luck? 

Honora  raised  her  voice  and  responded,  the  rooster 
flapped  his  wings,  and  to  the  encouraging  sound  of 
"  CocJc-a-doodle-doo,"  the  square  vehicle  turned  the 
corner  and  left  the  farm  behind. 

Having  ordered  the  fly  in  time  to  catch  the  4.10 
train,  Honora  was  enabled  to  catch  the  5.20  without  any 
undue  rush  and  hustling,  and  as  they  steamed  out  of 
Transley  station  a  certain  indefinable  breeze  of  elation 
ruffled  the  stagnant  surface  of  her  emotions. 

Deerbuck  Chicken  Farm  and  its  outlying  woods — to- 
day dressed  in  new  thin  mantles  of  arsenic  green — had 
brought  back  such  a  poignant  rush  of  memories  that  it 
almost  seemed  to  Honora  as  if  Bernard  Benstead's 
kisses  must  still  be  lingering  hot  and  impassioned  upon 
her  lips. 

More  than  half  a  year  had  elapsed  since  their  brief 
loving  and  swift  parting,  and  sometimes  Honora  had 
gladly  believed  that  the  picture  of  a  large  man  was 
really  growing  dim  and  faint  in  the  gallery  of  her 
mental  memories. 


200  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

There  were  days  when  she  could  hardly  recall  the 
uninteresting  semi-fairness  and  semi-darkness  of  his 
hair,  and  when  the  careless  roughness  of  his  voice  no 
longer  sounded  in  her  ears. 

And  those  were  comfortable,  satisfactory  days,  when 
she  would  smile  coquetry  into  a  dinner  neighbour's  eyes 
or  leave  some  favoured  partner  with  a  tremendous  be- 
lief in  his  own  attractions. 

But  on  this  late  afternoon  there  was  no  restful  slur- 
rings  over  and  forgetfulness. 

Memory  had  come  with  one  of  those  foaming,  roar- 
ing, cataract-like  rushes  which  always  do  return,  and 
return,  and  return  when  love  has  been  the  real  thing. 

No  man  or  woman  who  has  been  through  the  real 
thing  can  ever  finally  escape.  They  are  only  out  on 
ticket-of-leave,  liable  to  be  recalled  into  passion's 
thraldom  at  any  time  or  place. 

Immaculate  husbands,  attractive  wives,  social  suc- 
cesses, financial  successes,  artistic  successes,  creditable 
children  can  satisfactorily  induce  the  belief  that  "  it's 
all  forgotten  now  " — but  the  sight  of  one  wood  filled 
with  close-growing  trees,  the  perfume  of  one  deeply  red 
rose  with  curving  velvet  leaves — the  sound  of  one  com- 
monplace three-four  time  melody,  instantly  sweeps 
away  that  comfortable  fallacy  of  forgetfulness. 


They  said  that  Love  would  die  when  Hope  was  gone, 
And  Love  mourn'd  long  and  sorrowed  after   Hope; 
At  last  she  sought  out  Memory,  and  they  trod 
The  same  old  paths  where  Love  had  walked  with  Hope, 
And  Memory  fed  the  soul  of  Love  with  tears. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  201 

Honora's  vivid  lips  moved,  and  she  pressed  her  body 
closer  to  the  cushioned  arm  of  the  carriage,  as  though 
half  unconsciously  pretending  that  the  railway  com- 
pany's solid  piece  of  upholstery  was  the  breast  of  her 
absent  lover. 

Never  had  Bernard  seemed  so  near  as  he  was  to-day, 
not  even  when  his  arms  were  actually  holding  her  in  a 
passionate  man's  passionate  clasp — for  sometimes — in 
love — memory  can  be  more  real  than  reality ! 

When  Honora  alighted  at  the  terminus  and  took  a 
cab  straight  to  Holstein  Mansions,  her  cheeks  were 
glowing  with  that  vivid  flush  which  had  the  power  of 
making  her  beautiful,  and  not  even  the  subdued  bed- 
room, with  its  decorous  furniture,  could  shut  off  the 
picture  of  riotous,  gay  green  woods  where  love  had  come 
to  life  among  the  trees. 

Manette — Mrs.  Orlitson's  admirable  maid,  who  con- 
tinued most  perseveringly  with  her  French  accent — was 
standing  before  the  wardrobe  taking  out  a  cream  velvet 
Empire  gown  weighted  round  the  trained  skirt  with 
heavy  embroideries. 

"  Not  that,  Manette — I'll  wear  black — we're  dining 
alone,"  said  Honora,  who  unconsciously  resented  actual- 
ities which  forced  her  back  from  ephemeral  realms  of 
memory. 

"  Pardon,  mademoiselle,  but  madame  desire  me  to 
offer  her  much  love,  and  to  say  some  important  frumps 
arrive  to  dinner,  and  would  you,  to  please  her,  wear  ze 
velvet  ?  "  replied  Manette,  whose  eyes  were  clear,  inno- 
cent, and  pellucid,  and  those  of  a  lying  child. 


202  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  Oh,  of  course — yes — if  Mrs.  Orlitson  wishes  it," 
answered  Honora  impatiently. 

"  And  madame  also  ask  if  to  help  her  by  kindness  it 
would  be  possible  for  you  to  enter  the  drawing-room 
some  twenty  minute  early  as  she  have  head  of  the  ache 
and  desire  to  repose  up  to  the  final  moment." 

"I  am  sorry  Mrs.  Orlitson's  head  aches — yes,  I  will 
get  ready  at  once." 

Manette  still  looked  pellucidly  innocent,  and  after 
Honora's  travelling  costume  was  removed,  commenced 
to  dress  the  dark  Empire  curls  with  special  elabora- 
tion. 

By  7.30  Miss  Vayne  was  attired  in  a  costume  which 
was  quite  regrettably  becoming,  since  "  frumps  "  would 
be  the  only  witnesses  of  her  attractions,  and  the  vivid 
flush  of  beauty  which  memory  and  environment  had  laid 
upon  her  cheeks  still  remained. 

She  strolled  slowly  and  turned  the  curve  of  the  cor- 
ridor with  that  unconscious  arrogance  of  movement 
which  is  often  the  outcome  of  expensive  and  becoming 
clothes.  Women  mayn't  mean  to  think  about  their 
clothes,  but  they  do,  every  one  of  them,  and  at  every 
crisis  in  life. 

Hendry,  who  was  crossing  the  hall,  opened  the  draw- 
ing-room door  for  her  to  enter — she  entered — the  door 
was  reclosed — she  stepped  with  the  same  arrogant  grace 
across  the  thick  unobservable  carpet — she  glanced 
towards  the  second  drawing-room — she  stood  quite, 
quite  still — she  refrained  from  uttering  one  word — she 
was  drawn  forward  into  an  engulfing  embrace — and  the 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  203 

dreariness  of  life  had  once  more  ended  in  a  large  man's 
arms! 

The  red  Sussex  rooster  had  crowed  in  triumph  for  a 
coming  happiness,  and  the  elation  of  memory  had, 
instead,  been  but  the  magnetic  sparks  cast  forward  by 
coming  events ! 

"  I  was  horribly  angry  with  you,  but  I  had  to  come 
back ! "  said  Bernard,  almost  carelessly,  when  a  kiss 
that  was  not  in  the  least  careless  came  to  its  long  drawn- 
out  end. 

Honora  stepped  back  and  looked  at  him. 

Hitherto  they  had  been  two  people  clad  respectively 
in  serge  suits,  cotton  frocks,  and  straw  hats,  but  now 
they  felt  the  need  of  getting  to  know  each  other  all 
over  again. 

Evening  dress  suits  some  men  and  it  suited  Bernard 
Benstead,  by  emphasising  his  largeness  and  brown  fair 
cleanliness.  His  indented  chin  protruded  effectively 
above  a  stiff  collar  and  white  tie. 

And  Honora  was  likewise  a  partially  new  acquaint- 
ance, with  the  rich  cream-tinted  bareness  of  her  bosom, 
the  proudness  of  her  untrammelled  throat,  and  the 
aspect  of  civilised  convention  which  new  white  twenty- 
five-button-length  kid  gloves  can  always  be  relied  upon 
to  impart. 

"  Well,  what  do  we  think  of  each  other?  "  enquired 
Bernard,  after  a  few  seconds  of  mutual  scrutiny. 

"  I  think  you  quite  up  to  the  average  of  ordinary 
well-groomed  men,"  replied  Honora. 

"  And  I  think  you  a  commendable  example  of  the 


204  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

properly-clothed,  properly-mannered,  civilised  young 
Englishwomen ! "  retorted  Berr  with  boyish  rudeness 
in  his  voice. 

Then  they  laughed  again,  and  somehow  drifted 
towards  a  recess  and  back  into  each  other's  arms. 

"  You  behaved  like  an  absolute  caddess  and  an  abso- 
lute coward  on  the  occasion  of  our  last  unconventional 
interview,  and  I  don't  know  why  the — well,  '  devil '  will 
do  as  we're  alone — I've  come  back  to  you ! "  said  Ber- 
nard, touching  her  warm  shoulder  with  his  smooth  chin. 

Honora  didn't  answer.  A  luxurious,  hot  shame  was 
causing  her  body  and  limbs  and  pulses  to  throb. 

"  D'you  know  why  I've  come  back  ?  " 

A  mute  moment  ensued;  then  came  the  surrender  of 
all  Honora  Vayne's  caution. 

"  Life,  however  short,  is  made  shorter  by  waste  of 
time." 

Honora  remembered  those  words — at  school  she  had 
once  been  ordered  to  write  them  out  a  hundred  times 
by  way  of  punishment  for  some  incompleted  task,  and 
now  they  came  back  with  a  dangerous  significance  which 
the  excellent  head-mistress  had  never  intended. 

Her  life  shouldn't  be  shortened  by  any  more  waste 
of  time — she  had  wasted  enough  already  when — 

Liebe  ward  der  Welt  von  Gott  verlieben 
Um  zu  Gott  die  Seele  zu  erzieben. 

She  would  learn  Riickert's  congenial  lesson — she 
would  begin  training  her  soul  at  once — she  would  make 
the  very  most  of  life  and  the  very  most  of  love,  risking 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  205 

every  consequence  and  stifling  every  cry  of  an  incon- 
veniently moral  conscience. 

"  Do  you  know  why  I've  come  back  to  you — I  hardly 
do  myself!"  The  question  was  repeated  just  at  the 
psychological  moment,  when  she  was  ready  to  answer. 

"  Yes,  Bernard,  I  know — it  was  only  because  I 
couldn't  get  on  without  you  any  longer ! " 

"Oh!  my  dear!  Oh!  my  dear!  Oh!  my  darling!" 
Bernard  didn't  like  to  let  go  of  his  British  reserve, 
but  at  that  moment  he  was  forced  to  give  it  leave  of 
absence. 

He  called  her  all  the  endearing  names  that  might 
be  included  in  a  plumber's  love-letter  to  a  housemaid,  he 
kissed  her  strongly,  but  fondly  and  innocently,  he  only 
held  her  hand  sometimes,  only  looked  at  her  at  others, 
and  finally  smoothed  her  hair  in  the  most  tender  but 
devastating  manner  imaginable.  (No  matter  what  may 
be  the  intricacies  of  modern  puffed,  French-combed, 
ruffled  coiffures,  the  man  really  in  love  will  continue  to 
smooth  just  as  his  early  eighteenth-century  grandfather 
found  it  quite  convenient  to  smooth  his  early  eighteenth- 
century  grandmother's  plastered  locks.  Pure,  honour- 
able affection  must  find  vent  in  smoothing,  no  matter 
what  obstacles  in  the  way  of  fringe  nets,  pads,  combs, 
etc.,  may  be  encountered !) 

"And  as  you  really  couldn't  do  without  me,  we're 
going  to  be  always  together,"  he  went  on.  "  In  point 
of  fact,  I  believe  it's  quite  immoral  for  us  to  be  apart, 
because  if  each  is  incomplete  without  the  other,  it's  sort 
of  foisting  incomplete  halves  on  society !  We'll  be  a 


206  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

perfect  whole,  my  Honora — you  and  I — myself  and 
my  wife.19 

"  I — I  told  you  I  did  not  intend  to  marry,"  she 
answered  weakly. 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  told  me  a  great  many  very  foolish, 
very  hysterical,  very  new-woman  sort  of  things.  I  lis- 
tened then  and  went  away — now  I'll  still  listen,  but 
only  when  we  are  married.  A  man  is  bound  to  let  his 
wife  talk  nonsense,  and  I  daresay  I  shall  quite  enjoy  it 
then,  my  darling,  my  darling,  my — ah !  Kits  " — as  Mrs. 
Orlitson  entered  the  room — "  I've  got  my  own  way — 
Honora  is  going  to  get  over  her  anti-matrimonial  scru- 
ples and  marry  me !  " 

Katherine  made  one  rush  at  Honora,  and  left  kisses 
on  a  cheek  still  vivid  with  the  pressure  of  her  brother's 
lips. 

"  I  knew  it,  because  ever  since  you  wrote  you  were 
coming  back  I've  been  willing  that  it  should  come  off — 
sort  of  mental  insistence,  you  know.  All  day  long  I've 
been  saying  *  Hon  shall  have  Berr — Hon  shall  have 
Berr '  over  and  over  again,  till  the  magnetism  of  my 
thought  made  her  say  '  Yes.'  So  you  can  just  make  me 
a  nice  present,  mon  frdre,  because  my  hard-willings  got 
you  your  wife !  Hurray !  hurrah !  hoor " 

"  Mr.  Arnold  Smith!  "  broke  in  Hendry's  admirable 
voice. 

Mrs.  Orlitson  swirled  round  and  greeted  the  last  mem- 
ber of  their  parti  caree. 

"  Actually  not  late ! "  she  cried.  "  At  least,  of 
course,  you  think  you're  late,  because  I  told  you  half 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  207 

an  hour  too  early!  Now,  when  you've  finished  shaking 
Honora's  hand,  let  me  introduce  a  new  person  to  you. 
This  is  Berr — my  brother,  Bernard  Benstead,  whom  I've 
just  willed  Honora  into  promising  to  marry — Mr. 
Arnold  Smith — poor  Roger's  chum,  who  was  so  jolly 
when  we  all  met  abroad — commonly  known  in  Holstein 
Mansions  as  '  Tim  the  Talker.' ' 

The  two  men  shook  hands,  and  at  once  showed  signs 
of  liking  each  other. 

"  I  told  Honora  I  was  expecting  some  influential 
frumps,  and  made  her  put  on  one  of  her  best  frocks — 
if  I  hadn't,  Berr,  you'd  have  come  back  to  find  her 
quite  mediocre  and  dowdy  in  black!  Now  let's  adjourn 
and  eat !  Come  along — no  arm-giving — come  along, 
Honora,  come  along,  Berr,  come  along,  Tim ! " 

And  as  Mrs.  Orlitson  said  "  Come  along,  Tim,"  she 
smiled  up  into  the  eyes  of  her  late  husband's  chum  with 
the  very  friendliest  expression  in  her  own — and  the 
evening  which  followed  was  a  distinct  success. 


CHAPTER    XXm 

"  NINETY — eighty-two,"  called  out  the  weary  voice 
of  the  Serpentine  Club's  billiard  marker,  as  Mrs.  Orlit- 
son  chalked  her  cue  with  the  most  cautious  accuracy. 

It  would  be  interesting  to  hear  an  explanation  as  to 
why  women  billiard  players  chalk  their  cues  on  every 
desirable  and  undesirable  occasion — a  person  with  a 
taste  for  statistics  had  made  an  indisputable  discovery 
that  the  amount  of  chalk  supplied  to  a  woman's  club 
boasting  of  four  billiard  tables  is  exactly  one-third  in 
advance  of  the  quantity  supplied  to  a  man's  club  with 
the  same  number. 

So  far  no  solution  to  this  problem  is  forthcoming, 
but  a  theory  that  the  act  of  cue-chalking  is  an  excellent 
medium  for  displaying  diamond  rings  seems  as  though 
it  may  have  some  bearing  on  the  subject. 

When  Mrs.  Orlitson  had  thoroughly  blued  the  tip 
of  her  cue — the  Serpentine  billiard  players  always  used 
blue  chalk,  except  one  member,  who  had  been  seen  to 
produce  a  pale  pink  variety — she  made  a  thin  white 
bridge,  half-closed  her  light  grey  eyes,  stuck  out  her 
chin,  and  aimed  to  pot  the  red,  with  the  result  that 
a  very  creditable  all-round  cannon  was  achieved. 

Bravely  regardless  of  her  fluke,  she  rechalked  the 
cue  and  scooped  the  red  into  a  top  pocket. 

The  opponent  began  to  get  restless  and  complained 

208 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  209 

of  a  headache — one  of  those  tiring,  neuralgic  headaches 
which  interfere  with  the  eyesight.  She  absolutely 
couldn't  see  a  thing  that  afternoon — which  is  often  the 
way  of  feminine  players  who  stick  at  eighty ! 

Mrs.  Orlitson  reviewed  the  angles  and  drew  mental 
lines  between  the  balls  and  the  pockets,  after  which  she 
somehow  succeeded  in  getting  in  off  the  red,  with  her 
opponent's  ball  left  temptingly  over  a  pocket. 

"  I  must  try  for  the  cannon — I  hope  you  won't  go 
down ! "  murmured  Katherine,  as  she  made  a  really 
painstaking  effort  and  finished  the  game  by  potting 
the  white. 

"  One  hundred — eighty-two,"  cried  the  weary  marker, 
putting  up  rests  and  spiders  and  half-butts,  without 
the  use  of  which  implements  the  Serpentine  champions 
very  rarely  achieved  a  break  of  five. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  gurgled  Mrs.  Orlitson  to  the  defeated 
opponent,  who  was  feeling  for  her  purse.  "  When  one 
tries  for  those  long  cannons  the  wrong  thing  so  often 
comes  off!  Enjoyed  the  game  ever  so  much — you  must 
have  your  revenge  to-morrow — good-bye !  " 

Out  of  the  swinging  doors,  across  the  big  hall,  and 
into  the  drawing-room  Mrs.  Orlitson  trailed  her  thin, 
soft,  rustling  black  skirts,  pausing  a  second  before 
steering  towards  a  small  tea-drinking  group  in  the  cor- 
ner— a  group  composed  of  Honora,  Bernard,  and  Lady 
Chesham. 

"  I've  won ! "  she  announced  in  tones  of  candid  pleas- 
ure. "  I'm  so  glad,  because  I  do  love  beating  people 
I  hate,  and  I  do  hate  Baroness  Monche  more  than  any 


210  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

person  I  know.  Why  and  wherefore  she's  called  '  Baron- 
ess '  it's  difficult  to  determine,  but  that  doesn't  matter. 
Have  you  actually  got  tea  without  waiting  half  an 
hour?  " 

"  Yes,  only  twenty-five  minutes,"  replied  Bernard, 
who  was  there  because  Honora  was  there. 

"  Have  you  just  come,  Evelyn?  "  enquired  Katherine, 
after  ordering  a  whisky  and  soda. 

"  Yes,  I  looked  in  to  ring  Charles  up — he's  so  silly — 
always  insisting  that  I  shall  ring  him  up  every  after- 
noon, so  that  he  shall  know  I'm  not  engaged  in  any 
serious  mischief,"  responded  Lady  Chesham  with  a  small 
twittering  laugh  that  hardly  accorded  with  her  waist 
measurement. 

Katherine  purred  sympathetically  as  she  sat  down. 

"  Sir  Charles  is  a  nice,  resolute  ogre,  a  gentlemanly, 
white-skinned  Othello ! "  she  said,  casting  one  swift 
glance  and  eye-droop  towards  Honora.  "  But  you're 
very  wise  to  indulge  him,  Eve,  because  a  man  tortured 
by  jealousy  is  a  very  pitiable  creature.  Are  you  going 
to  be  jealous  and  ogre-like,  Berr,  when  you  and  Honora 
are  married?  " 

Bernard's  mouth  widened  by  a  quarter  of  an  inch. 

"  I  shall  have  my  own  methods,"  he  answered  grimly. 

"And  what  are  those?  Ill-usage,  starvation,  im- 
prisonment? " 

"  No — neglect." 

Katherine  uttered  a  shrill  little  squeak. 

"  Oh !  the  tragic  vanity  of  the  male  human  thing  who 
believes  neglect  to  be  the  supremest  punishment  we  can 


THE     WILD     WIDOW 

inflict !  Why,  neglect  is  the  most  convenient  thing  in 
the  world!" 

**  Oh,  no,  it  isn't,"  replied  Bernard,  with  calm  assert- 
iveness.  "  No  woman  likes  being  neglected,  even  by  a 
man  she  loathes,  for  neglect  is  a  testament  to  waning 
attractions,  and  women  insist  on  being  attractive  even 
if  they  aren't." 

"  What  you  say  is  absolutely  true,"  broke  in  Honora, 
"  because  every  single  feminine  emotion  is  based  on  van- 
ity. One's  loves,  hates,  hopes,  fears,  virtues,  and  vices 
all  spring  from  vanity !  " 

"  Precisely." 

"Do  you  mean,  then,  my  dear  Miss  Vayne,  that 
vanity  has  caused  you  to  become  engaged  to  Mr.  Ben- 
stead?  "  It  was  Lady  Chesham  who  asked  this  question, 
revealing  a  glimpse  of  her  middle-class  soul  by  the 
British  matron  primness  of  her  voice. 

"  Mainly,  I  think,  I  suppose  I  was  pleased  at  his 
wanting  to  marry  me  instead  of  wanting  to  marry  other 
women,  so  I  said  *  Yes.' ' 

"  Yes,  and  I  only  proposed  for  the  sake  of  putting 
her  on  good  terms  with  herself ! " 

"  Don't  listen  to  them,  Eve — they're  pulling  our 
legs,  or  noses,  or  something.  They  think  they're  be- 
ing very  original,  but  they  don't  get  beyond  puerility. 
A  everybody's  sante! "  And  with  this  hybrid  toast 
Mrs.  Orlitson  got  rid  of  the  whisky  and  soda — which 
had  just  been  brought  after  twelve  minutes'  delay — 
while  Bernard  and  Honora  made  the  situation  perfect 
for  themselves  by  looking  into  each  other's  eyes. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  It  was  love,  wasn't  it  ?  "  he  whispered,  passing  the 
cold,  butterless  "hot  buttered  toast." 

"Yes,  it  was  love,"  she  answered,  taking  mouldy 
cake  instead. 

"  Six  new  members  elected  this  week,"  remarked 
Lady  Chesham,  peering  into  the  teapot. 

"  Isn't  one  of  them  a  lady  with  artistic  yearnings 
of  sorts — a  Mrs.  Dobel — a  pallid  person  without  a 
chest?" 

"  Yes,  she  is  literary.  I've  heard  that  half  her  hus- 
band's income  goes  in  paying  people  to  write,  and 
publish,  and  buy,  and  read,  and  review,  and  dramatise 
her  books." 

"Poor  thing!" 

"  Only  last  month  he — no,  is  it  really  you  ?  Welcome 
back ! "  And  as  Lady  Chesham  broke  into  italics 
Katherine  saw  a  new  shadow  across  the  tea  table, 
and  felt  the  presence  of  a  new  substance  behind  her 
chair. 

"  Yes,  I've  come  back — had  a  really  dreadful  martyr- 
dom, but  I'm  quite  safe  and  disinfected  now,"  answered 
the  thin  jerky  voice  of  a  busy  woman. 

Bernard  had  by  this  time  risen  and  put  his  chair  at 
the  new-comer's  disposal. 

"  Yes,  do  sit  down  and  talk  to  us — you'll  get  an- 
other chair,  won't  you,  Mr.  Benstead? — and — ah!  of 
course  you  don't  know  my  friend  Mrs.  Orlitson,  do  you  ? 
— you  went  away  almost  directly  after  she  was  made  a 
member.  Mrs.  Orlitson — (Mrs.  Burham) — Miss  Vayne 
—Mr.  Benstead." 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  213 

Mrs.  Burham  gave  her  head  three  friendly  jerks,  and 
sat  down  on  a  high  chair  next  to  Katherine. 

For  the  fraction  of  an  instant  Mrs.  Orlitson  remained 
inert — like  a  slackened  diabolo  string  awaiting  its  mo- 
ment— then  she  turned  towards  the  society  paragraph- 
ist  and  stuck  out  her  chin. 

"  Mrs.  Burham,  I'm  awfully  pleased  to  meet  you — 
firstly,  because  I  want  to  know  you,  and  secondly,  be- 
cause I  do  want  to  vindicate  my  poor  character.  Lady 
Chesham  told  me  that  you  saw  my  unfortunate  double 
— pitiable  soul! — under  most  suspicious  circumstances 
at — at — Brighton  or  somewhere !  " 

Mrs.  Burham  laughed,  just  enough,  but  not  too 
much! 

"  It  wasn't  Brighton — it  was  Langley  Cross,"  she 
answered,  darting  both  eyes  round  the  big  room  as  she 
spoke. 

"Langley  Cross?  Where  is  that? — at  least  /  ought 
to  know,  oughtn't  I  ?  Ha !  ha-ha-ha !  " 

"  Ha  !  ha !     It's  in  Buryshire." 

"  /*  it  ?  Well  then  I'm  afraid,  Mrs.  Burham,  the 
world  must  hold  another  red-haired  woman  with  an 
unhealthy  complexion  and  scraggy  collar  bones ! — such 
a  pity !  I  did  hope  I  was  the  only  one ! — because  I've 
never  heard  of  Langley  Cross,  and  I've  never  been  to 
Buryshire  in  my  life !  I  wish  we  could  find  this  Mrs. — 
Silk,  wasn't  it? " 

"Dylke!" 

"  Oh,  yes,  *  Dylke ' — in  order  to  clear  my  British- 
widow  virtue !  Ha !  ha-ha-ha-ha-ha !  " 


Mrs.  Burham  echoed  the  laughter  in  half-h«arted 
jerks. 

"And  the  male  accompaniment? — do  tell  me  exactly 
what  he  was  like?  " 

Mrs.  Burham,  who  by  this  time  had  thoroughly  noted 
the  costly  perfection  of  Katherine's  gown  and  the  ex- 
pensiveness  of  her  rings,  moved  nearer.  (This  lady 
who  clothed  three  marriageable  daughters  who  didn't 
marry,  on  "  pars,"  always  moved  nearer  to  the  wearers 
of  really  expensive  rings.) 

"Well,  it  isn't  easy  to  say  exactly,"  she  answered 
cheerfully. 

"  Was  he  anything  like  Sir  Charles  Chesham  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least." 

"  Anything  like  that  miracle-worker,  Dr.  Sphait,  who 
has  just  begun  to  specialise  in  Harley  Street? — a  per- 
fect disciple  of  nerves  and  rheumatism — seems  to  have 
cured  half  London  already — made  a  new  woman  of 
me!" 

"  I've  never  seen  Dr.  Sphait.  You  see,  I  only  arrived 
back  in  England  yesterday " 

"  Yes,  of  course — after  that  dreadful  scarlet  fever ! 
Has  it  left  you  rheumatic,  by-the-by?  I  believe  scarlet 
fever  often  does,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

"Yes,  I'm  sorry  to  say  it  does,  because " 

" because  you've  got  it!  Mrs.  Burham,  Dr. 

Sphait  shall  cure  you!  He  absolutely  shall!  I'll  tell 
him  if  he  cures  you  without  charge  you'll  puff  him  in 
your  nice,  clever  glazed  papers,  and — let  me  see,  what 
were  we  saying? — oh,  yes,  about " 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  215 

"  Good  heaven*!  " 

Evelyn  Chesham,  Honora,  and  Bernard  were  all  busy 
discussing  a  new  play  at  a  new  playhouse,  so  only 
Katherine  heard  Mrs.  Burham's  ejaculation. 

"  What  an  extraordinary  thing !  You  know,  Mrs. 
Orlitson,  you  were  asking  me  to  describe  that  man — 
Dylke — who  was  at  Langley  Cross  Inn  with  your  dou- 
ble  " 

"Yes?— yes?" 

"  Well,  I  can  show  him  to  you !  He  is  there — here — 
I  recognise  him  at  once — look!  coming  this  way " 

Mrs.  Orlitson  looked,  and  a  second  later  Arnold 
Smith  was  shaking  her  hand  and  heedlessly  calling  her 
"  Kits,"  while  once  again  the  widow's  effective  pallor 
became  tinged  with  green  and  yellow. 

Mrs.  Burham  sat  absolutely  upright  in  an  upright 
chair,  and  looked  vacant. 

"Would  Mr.  Smith  like  fresh  tea?  Well,  he  had 
rather  a  penchant  for  tea  that  was  newly  made! — 
no,  not  toast — scone  for  perference.  No,  he  hadn't  been 
to  the  Albanian  fete — had  promised  to  go,  but  for- 
got " 

"  Mrs.  Burham ! " 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Orlitson?" 

Katherine  stealthily  sidled  her  chair  further  away 
from  the  tea-drinking  circle,  and  Mrs.  Burham — a 
woman  whose  income  was  largely  earned  by  intuitions — 
followed  suit. 

"Why — why  don't  you  start  a  paper  of  your  own, 
Mrs.  Burham?  Everybody  says  how  awfully  clever 


216  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

you  are  at  this  hobby  of  yours — journalism.  Surely 
there's  room  for  another  society  paper? — not  a  very 
elaborate  one  that  would  want  too  much  capital,  of 
course,  but  just  something  smart  and  chic!  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  there's  room — plenty  of  room — and  with 
my  exceptional  advantages  I'd  guarantee  to  make  it 
pay" 

"Then  why  don't  you  do  it?" 

"  Because  I  haven't  sufficient  capital,  Mrs.  Orlitson." 

"Yes,  yes;  but  if  someone  else  found  that — if  / 
found  it?  " 

There  was  a  pause.  Mrs.  Orlitson's  light  grey  eyes 
met  Mrs.  Burham's  steel  blue  eyes. 

"  Yes,  suppose  /  found  it,  Mrs.  Burham,  and  that 
though  I  remained  actual  proprietor,  you  drew  a  nice 
fat  sum  every  week? — so  long  as  we  remained  friends 
and  alliesy  of  course!  It  sounds  a  jolly  idea,  doesn't 
it?" 

"  It  sounds  a  most  fascinating  idea,  my  dear  Mrs. 
Orlitson,  and  if  the  Worldly  Woman — that's  the  title 
I've  always  fancied — is  started  in  the  way  you  suggest, 
we  must  regard  ourselves  as  staunch  comrades  and  al- 
lies for  all  time  to  come!  " 

Katherine  smiled  delightfully,  and  held  out  her  hand. 

Mrs.  Burham  shook  the  hand. 

"  Agreed !  "  was  their  almost  simultaneous  utterance. 

And  the  secret  of  Langley  Cross  was  safe — but  it 
meant  a  lot  of  money  if  the  paper  was  to  be  glazed. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

BERNARD — who  was  staying  at  a  small  hotel  in  Bond 
Street — reached  Holstein  Mansions  one  morning  to  find 
his  sister  sitting  in  "  the  bood "  with  a  hard  drawn 
expression  on  her  face — a  hint  of  the  same  expression 
that  was  there  when  she  had  washed  the  plates  and  dishes 
at  the  Seedlingditch  cottage. 

"  Bernard,"  she  said  suddenly,  "  are  you  fond  of 
me?" 

Bernard  sat  down. 

"  I  rather  fancy  I  am — anyhow,  I  like  your  pluck," 
he  answered  good-humouredly. 

"  What  pluck  ?  "    Kits  voice  was  sharp. 

"  Oh !  the  way  you  lie  about  your  ancestors  and 
poor  old  Roger's  ancestors,  and  the  way  you  defy 
public  opinion  enough  to  give  the  impression  that  your 
own  secure  pinnacle  of  respectability  makes  it  quite 
safe  for  you  to  be  unconventional — yet  always  keep 
clear  of  boundary  lines." 

"  My  admirable  Berr,  you  are  as  analytical  as  a 
woman!  I  thought  Tim  was  the  only  man  who  ever 
analysed." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  can  run  Smith  very  close  when  occasion 
requires.  What  a  slack  devil  he  is,  to  be  sure ! " 

Katherine — who  only  yesterday  had  been  verbally 
brutal  to  the  said  "  slack  devil "  because  of  his  f  orget- 

817 


218  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

fulness  in  tht  respect  of  delivering  messages — looked 
annoyed. 

"  I  don't  see  he's  any  slacker  than  you  are,  my  dear 
boy — besides  he's  got  a  temperament,"  she  answered 
sharply. 

"Has  he?  Well,  he  shouldn't  have — men  haven't 
any  right  to  temperaments — they  don't  fit  in  with  sport. 
But  he's  a  decent  sort,  and  possesses  a  perfect  fund  of 
unexpected  energy.  We  played  three  rounds  at  Barn- 
ham  yesterday,  and  though  every  caddie  was  engaged 
and  it's  a  beastly  rough  course,  Smith  carried  his  clubs 
and  won  like  a  brick.  His  tiredness  is  of  the  variety 
that  goes  off  when  he  wants  to  amuse  himself !  " 

"  That  is  spiteful — but  you  needn't  be  spiteful  about 
Tim,  because  he  doesn't  admire  Honora  in  the  least." 

"Doesn't  he?  Wise  Tim!  And  d'you  think  he  ad- 
mires you,  Kits  ?  " 

Mrs.  Orlitson  grew  faintly  flesh-coloured. 

"  I'm  quite  sure  he  doesn't,"  she  replied  with  em- 
phasis, "  but  because  of  his  having  known  poor  Roger 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  we  get  on  well  together." 

"  I  see." 

A  pause. 

"Berr!" 

"Kits!" 

"  Are  you  well  off?    You've  never  really  told  me." 

"  Yes,  I'm  well  off.    Why  ?  " 

"Quite   well   off,   I   mean." 

"  Yes,  I'm — don't  gas  this  about — I  hate  talk  and 
touts — I'm  just  about  a  millionaire!" 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  219 

"  Oh !  my  dear,  big,  clever,  beautiful  brother ! " 
(Mrs.  Orlitson  had  now  leapt  on  to  the  arm  of  the  dear, 
big,  clever,  beautiful  brother's  chair,  and  was  crushing 
his  collar  by  the  violent  pressure  of  two  thin  white 
arms.) 

"  If  I'd  only  known  that  before !  A  real  millionaire ! 
An  honest  or  dishonest  millionaire?  " 

"  Quite  a  fairly  honest  millionaire." 

"  Any  secret  slaves  or  things  ?  " 

"Not  a  slave!" 

"  Tinned  decompressed  foods  ?  " 

"  Not  a  tin ! " 

"  Stolen  diamonds  ?  " 

"  Not  a  diamond !  " 

"Pork?" 

"Not  a  pig!" 

"  Speculations  ?  " 

"Partly!" 

"And  what  else?     What  is  the  beginning?" 

"Rubber!" 

"  How  nice  and  refined !  Oh,  won't  Honora  and  I 
revel  in  mackintoshes,  and  hot  water-bottles,  and  port- 
able baths,  and  goloshes!  Did  you  dig  and  find  it 
yourself  ?  " 

"  No,  I  more  grew  than  dug — at  least,  I  bought  at 
a  low  price  what  other  people  had  grown,  and  then 
developed  the  plantation !  " 

"  How  clever !  You  dear  paternal  thing !  And  does 
Honora  know  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  think  so.     She  has  never  sounded  me 


220  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

as  to  my  prospects.  I  suppose  she  sees  I  can  afford 
clean  collars  and  cabs." 

"  It's  really  very  delightful  to  have  a  millionaire 
brother!  I  thought  you  must  be  extremely  coiny  when 
I  saw  how  cheap  your  watch  and  stick  were !  It's  only 
twenty-five-shilling-a-week  clerks  who  have  good 
watches  and  sticks.  I  am  pleased,  Berr !  " 

"  Thanks,  Kits.  But  you're  such  an  affluent  young 
person  yourself  that  my  dollars  won't  much  affect  the 
family  prosperity." 

"  Oh!  but  that's  just  what  they  will — what  they  can! 
You  want  to  make  me  a  real  handsome  present,  don't 
you,  brother  Berr — something  that  I  can't  afford  to 
give  myself?  " 

"  Course  I  do,  Carrots." 

"Then  will  you  run  a  paper  called  the  Worldly 
Woman  for  me — a  good  paper  with  a  liberally-paid 
woman-editor  who  guarantees  to  make  the  thing  a  pay- 
ing concern  ?  I've  always  longed  to  be  the  ruling  spirit 
of  a  kind  of  society  paper  in  which  all  one's  best  friends 
can  be  libelled  under  assumed  names.  Will  you  do  it, 
Berr,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  if  you  want  it,  I  will.  It  seems  to 

me  a  d d  silly  way  of  squandering  cash,  but  if 

it  pleases  you,  I'm  willing,  provided  the  Wordly 
Woman  doesn't  quite  beggar  Honora  and  myself. 
Worldly  women  aren't  often  very  lenient  to  men's 
pockets." 

"  But  our  Worldly  Woman  shall  be,  I  promise  you. 
You're  a  dear  thing,  and  now  you  can  go  if  you  want 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  221 

to  very  much — I  can  sort  of  feel  your  muscles  breaking 
loose  to  run  after  Honora.  If  we  came  of  a  kissing 
stock  I'd  kiss  you,  but  as  we  don't  I'll  slap  your  big, 
broad,  chubby  shoulders  and  let  you  go.  Thanks,  old 
boy,  awfully." 

"  Not  a  bit,  old  girl — glad  to  be  useful " — and  with 
a  cheerful,  unmelodious  whistle  on  his  lips,  Bernard 
swung  out  of  the  bead-curtained  doorway  and  made 
his  way  to  a  very  small  room  which  had  been  recently 
fixed  up  as  a  temporary  "  bood  "  for  Honora — because, 
according  to  Mrs.  Orlitson,  if  two  women  living  un- 
der the  same  roof  desired  to  retain  their  friendly  and 
affectionate  relations,  it  was  absolutely  essential  that 
they  should  have  separate  havens.  Katherine  averred 
that  she  and  Honora  would  have  come  to  active  blows 
three  weeks  ago  but  for  those  two  separate  "  boods," 
where  each  could  sit  and  think  how  irritated  she  felt 
with  the  other. 

Bernard  knocked  at  the  door,  and  Honora  said 
"  Come  in,"  and  the  next  moment  a  love-scene  had 
begun. 

But  Honora's  and  Bernard's  love-scenes  were  not 
quite  like  other  people's  love-scenes.  They  were  more 
restrained,  more  passionate,  more  unexpected,  and 
sometimes  a  whole  hour  would  pass  without  touch  of  lips 
or  touch  of  hands. 

"  Good-morning,  Misg  Vayne,"  was  Bernard's 
greeting. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Benstead,"  replied  Honora, 
without  looking  up  from  a  long  letter  which  she  was 


222  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

writing  to  Tryke  concerning  the  purchase  of  a  dozen 
Ancona  hens. 

Bernard  smoothed  the  curve  of  her  neck  in  passing — 
there  was  all  a  man's  primeval  patronage  in  the  touch — 
then  sat  down  on  a  low  couch  pushed  up  beside  the  writ- 
ing-table, while  Honora's  pen  continued  its  fast  travel- 
ling over  the  pages. 

"I  came  round  to  see  you,  you  know,"  remarked 
Bernard,  after  half  a  page  had  been  covered. 

"  Of  course  you  did,"  responded  Honora,  who  was 
wearing  cream  serge  with  very  blue  violets  at  her 
breast. 

The  pen  continued  its  wayfaring,  till  suddenly — of 
course  Honora  had  been  waiting  for  this — the  writer 
was  forcibly  induced  to  occupy  a  vacant  portion  of  the 
low  couch. 

Bernard  pressed  her  back  against  a  cushion  and 
looked  at  her — as  he  had  looked  when  she  had  lain  on  a 
carpet  of  bronzing  leaves — then  he  bent  right  over  and 
kissed  her  cheek,  which  is  about  the  most  unsatisfactory 
of  lover's  caresses. 

Honora  smiled  right  up  at  him  out  of  her  bewilder- 
ing eyes — which  of  late  had  grown  full  of  a  dozen 
new  expressions — and  after  that  look  the  love-scene 
really  began. 

"  I  wonder  if  I  shall  get  really  and  heartily  sick  of 
kissing  you,"  mused  Bernard  when  they  were  both  half 
breathless  with  passion. 

"  It's  possible — but  it's  no  good  looking  ahead," 
answered  Honora  dreamily. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  223 

"  On  the  contrary,  it's  a  great  deal  of  good  to  look 
ahead,  when  ahead  I  see  you,  my  dear  darling." 

"  Oh !  but  you  mustn't — you  mustn't — one  never 
knows  about  the  future,  never  wants  to  know  about  it — 
please,  Bernard,  please  don't  look  ahead ! "  And  in 
Honora's  voice  there  was  real  fear. 

Bernard  laughed  in  the  superior  way  of  a  man  who 
feels  lenient  amusement  at  feminine  upheavals — the  sort 
of  laugh  suggesting  that  all  women's  emotions,  from 
vexation  concerning  an  ill-fitting  gown  to  pangs  of 
death-agony,  have  to  do  with  hysteria. 

"  Do  you  know  that  in  less  than  two  months  I  shall 
be  able  to  bully  and  domineer  over  you  all  day  and  all 
night  if  I  like?  "  he  said,  giving  her  the  faintest  sus- 
picion of  a  shake. 

Honora's  vivid  flush  momentarily  deepened.  In 
some  ways  she  felt  less  completely  at  ease  with  her  lover 
than  formerly. 

"  Yes,  and  I  shall  be  able  to  make  you  kiss  me  before 
breakfast — you  always  hate  early-morning  affection, 
don't  you,  darling?  "  he  added. 

"  Yes,  I  can  never  be  reckoned  upon  for  amiability 
till  lunch,"  responded  Honora,  trying  to  speak  lightly. 

"  I  used  to  be  the  same — the  notion  of  kissing  a 
woman  before  5  p.  M.  was  positively  revolting  to  me, 
but  now  I  find  acute  pleasure  in  kissing  you  before  ten. 
That  shows  we  were  meant  to  marry — no  man  was 
ever  intended  to  marry  any  woman  except  the  one  whom 
it  was  rapture  to  kiss  before  10  A.  M. — like  this — and 
this!  " 


224  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

A  replete  interval  elapsed  before  Honora  asked  a 
very  ingenue  question — but  she  didn't  ask  it  in  an 
ingenue  way.  There  was  something  like  desperation  in 
her  voice. 

"You  are  quite  sure  you  love  me  very  much, 
Bernard?  " 

His  answer  was  beautiful — just  the  answer  a  woman 
must  have  wanted — for  he  threw  back  his  large  head 
and  laughed. 

Sure!  was  he  sure?  The  doubt  implied  even  by  the 
question  was  worth  long  strong  laughs. 

Honora  demanded  no  further  response,  and  for  a 
moment  rested  mute  in  the  close  holding  of  his  arms. 

Then  she  spoke  again. 

"  I — I  was  thinking  about  you  last  night,  Ber- 
nard  " 

"  Of  course — that's  your  only  legitimate  occupation." 

"  No,  no ;  listen — yes,  I  was  thinking  about  you  and 
your  views  on  things.  You — you  are  a  man  who  troubles 
very  little  about  what  might  be  called  conventional 
morality,  aren't  you,  Berr. "  There  was  a  curious  lilt 
of  pleading  in  her  tones. 

"  I  don't  know — I  used  to  be " 

"Used— to— be!" 

"  Yes,  I  think  my  gay-dog,  daring  notions  have  a 
bit  gone  to  the  wall  since  knowing,  and  being  mildly 
fond  of,  you !  " 

He  was  rubbing  the  back  of  Honora's  white  and 
rather  beautiful  hand  up  and  down  his  cheek  as  he 
spoke. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  225 

"  Do — do  you  mean  that  you  have  got  more — more 
conventional  in  your  ideas  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  do,  darling.  At  one  time  it  wouldn't 
have  troubled  me  in  the  least  to  be  cut  off  Mrs.  Grundy's 
visiting  list,  but  now,  somehow — good  Lord,  I  believe 
I'm  growing  proper!  Grim,  isn't  it?  I  positively  like 
the  idea  of  wearing  a  frock  coat  and  being  married  in 
church;  I  have  a  yearning  towards  silk  hats;  I  relish 
the  notion  of  your  paying  calls  in  new  gloves  and  dis- 
tributing exactly  the  legitimate  quantity  of  my  cards 
and  your  own;  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  ended  by 
cutting  Lawrence  Grant  because  of  his  sub  rosa  Ful- 
ham  flat  and  its  tenant,  and  by  framing  our  marriage 
certificate.  Yes,  I'm  sure  I  shall  frame  your  marriage 
lines  and  place  them  in  a  conspicuous  position  on  the 
dining-room  walls!  Terrible  state  of  things,  isn't  it? 
And  all  your  fault,  my  dear ! " 

Honora  laughed  quite  hilariously,  and  during  the 
rest  of  the  morning  talked  more  volubly  than  she  had 
ever  talked  before — a  new  phase  which  Bernard  found 
very  enthralling. 

But  of  course  men  wno  are  quite  in  love — and  not 
married  to  the  centres  of  their  devotion — find  most  new 
phases  enthralling. 

At  last  the  love-scene,  followed  by  a  stroll  through 
the  park  and  lunch,  was  over,  and  Bernard  had  mur- 
mured au  revoirs  which  would  be  required  to  last  for 
over  twenty-four  hours  in  consequence  of  a  business  ap- 
pointment in  Liverpool  that  would  keep  him  out  of  town 
till  the  following  evening. 


THE    WILD    WIDOW 

Honora  took  her  lover's  last  kiss,  passed  the  "  bood  " 
where  Katherine  was  smoking  and  drinking  liqueur 
brandy  mixed  with  Cura9oa,  and  went  up  to  her  own 
bedroom. 

Immediately  the  door  was  closed  the  smiles  and  vivid 
flush  which  made  her  beautiful  gave  way  to  pallor  and 
an  expression  of  blank,  relentless  woman's  despair — 
for  the  despair  of  a  woman,  a  young  life-loving  woman, 
is  more  acute  than  any  other. 

"  End — by — cutting — Lawrence — Grant — because — 
of — Ms — sub — rosa — Fulham — flat — and  —  framing — 
our — marriage — certificate!  " 

Honora  repeated  each  word  slowly  and  distinctly,  as 
though  she  were  paraphrasing  the  sentence. 

"  Our  marriage  certificate !  Our — marriage — certifi- 
cate !  OUR  MARRIAGE  CERTIFICATE !  " 

And  Bernard  was  getting  proper! 


CHAPTER  XXV 

MRS.  ORLITSON  drained  her  cross-bred  liqueur  and  lit 
another  cigarette  in  the  boisterous  manner  peculiar  to 
fumeuses  who  have  graduated  from  "  the  boards." 

An  ex-touring  actress  may  doff  gentle  blasphemies, 
may  lose  her  relish  for  port,  may  refrain  from  ad- 
dressing new  acquaintances  as  "  dearie "  and  "  old 
boy,"  and  may  even  relinquish  her  taste  for  three-inch 
French  heels  and  white  furs,  but  nothing  can  teach  her 
to  smoke  like  a  lady. 

The  ease  with  which  a  "  cig."  lolls  out  of  one  corner 
of  her  mouth,  or  is  retained  between  her  lips  to  jog 
up  and  down  while  she  talks,  betrays  much  to  a  beacon 
eye. 

Mrs.  Orlitson  puffed  a  great  many  puffs,  then  leaned 
back  with  a  sigh  which  revealed  a  mental  condition  bor~ 
dering  on  satisfaction. 

Bernard  had  just  taken  a  considerable  load  off  his 
sister's  mind  by  confessing  his  momentary  affluence  and 
by  promising  to  finance  the  Worldly  Woman;  for 
though  roulette  and  "  Grey  Rubbers  "  had  caused  Mrs. 
Orlitson's  golden  dreams  to  be  fulfilled,  they  did  not  pro- 
vide unlimited  capital  for  the  setting  up  of  a  Harley 
Street  physician,  and  for  the  capitalising  of  a  glazed 
paper. 

However,  if  Berr  fixed  up  the  paper  Katherine  could 


228  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

float  the  specialist — particularly  as  Dr.  Morgan  had 
begun  to  make  and  take  quite  a  reassuring  amount  of 
money. 

Everybody  seemed  to  suddenly  know  of  this  nerve 
and  rheumatism  specialist,  whose  name  was  perpetually 
cropping  up  in  the  "  pars  "  of  six-penny  weekly  jour- 
nals, who  had  cured  Mrs.  Orlitson  of  a  hitherto  uncon- 
fessed  nerve-trouble  from  which  she  had  suffered  in  secret 
for  years,  and  she  had  already  been  the  subject  of 
several  illustrated  interviews. 

Yes,  Katherine  congratulated  herself  that  the  Seed- 
lingditch  doctor  who  had  looked  through  the  blind 
wouldn't  continue  to  be  much  of  an  incubus. 

She  had  floated  him  expensively,  boomed  him  royally, 
and  luck — which,  so  far,  had  behaved  very  decently  to 
this  red-haired  widow  with  a  perfect  waist — still  seemed 
sticking  close  to  her  side  by  holding  out  strong  help- 
ing-hands to  the  new  speciah'st  in  Harley  Street — for 
when  the  Seedlingditch  practitioner  was  fully  floated 
and  independent,  Mrs.  Orlitson  would  be  free  from  one 
firmly  forged  chain  which  linked  the  present  to  the  past. 

Katherine  continued  to  puff,  and  was  just  about  to 
mix  another  double  liqueur  when  Hendry  knocked — 
permission  must  always  be  gained  before  entering  the 
vulgarly  upholstered  "  bood." 

"  Come  in." 

Hendry  approached. 

"  Dr.  Sphait  wishes  to  know  if  you  could  see  him 
for  a  few  moments,  madame." 

"  Does  he  ?     Oh,  very  well — show  him  in  here." 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  229 

"Very  good,  raadame," — and  a  moment  later  Dr. 
Sphait  was  shown  in. 

Mrs.  Orlitson  greeted  him — even  after  Hendry  had 
retired — with  quite  a  middle-class  display  of  ceremony, 
the  sort  of  ceremony  intended  to  draw  very  definite  lines 
of  division,  and  to  show  that  tete-a-tete  interviews  must 
not  be  regarded  as  mediums  for  intimate  discussion. 

Even  in  private,  blackmailed  and  blackmailer  must 
not  acknowledge  their  relations. 

"  Are  you  busy  as  usual,  Dr.  Sphait  ? "  enquired 
Katherine  with  a  primness  of  manner  that  was  almost 
humorous. 

"  I  am,  Mrs.  Orlitson." 

The  big  specialist's  voice  was  cheery  as  ever,  but 
it  was  a  superior  order  of  cheeriness.  The  former  and 
less  subtle  variety  had  been  lain  aside  with  country-cut 
clothes. 

Katherine  threw  away  her  cigarette  and  gradually 
changed  her  lounging  attitude  to  one  which  would  have 
befitted  a  suburban  housewife  receiving  the  vicar's  first 
call.  Morgan  D.  Sphait  should  be  admitted  to  no  sort 
of  intimacy,  and  Katherine  knew  that  to  establish  safe 
dealings  with  this  large,  not  well-bred  man,  barriers 
must  never  be  momentarily  relaxed. 

*'  Will  you  have  a  liqueur?  " 

"  Thank  you— I  will." 

"Mixed?" 

The  ex-general  practitioner  evidently  didn't  know 
what  she  meant. 

"  No — er — no  soda,  thanks." 


230  THE     WILD    WIDOW 

Katherine  was  commendable  and  betrayed  no  hint 
of  amusement  as  she  poured  out  a  Cura9oa. 

Dr.  Sphait  did  not  consume  the  liqueur  quite  sound- 
lessly. 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Orlitson,"  he  began  when  the  little 
glass  was  entirely  empty,  "  I've  come  to  ask  your  help 
in  a  rather  delicate  matter."  Here  he  drew  up  his  chair 
with  a  professional  briskness  which  seemed  to  suggest 
the  coming  prolonged  investigation  of  a  patient's 
throat. 

"  What  is  that,  Dr.  Sphait?  " 

"  Well,  I  believe  that  a  notion  which  possibly  may  be 
deemed  old-fashioned  obtains  in  London  as  much,  or 
even  more,  than  it  did  at  Seedlingditch." 

"What  is  that  notion?" 

"  That  a  medical  man  should  be  a  married  man." 

"  I  see."  (Could  the  voluble  Mrs.  Orlitson  be  re- 
sponsible for  these  brief  inexpressive  rejoinders?) 

"  Therefore  I  believe  it  would  be  politic  for  me  to 
marry." 

"  Very  probably." 

"  And  what  do  you  advise,  Mrs.  Orlitson  ?  " 

"  I  advise  you  to  follow  your  own  inclinations." 

"You  do?" 

He  looked  at  her  attractive  red  hair,  at  her  at- 
tractive white  face,  and  at  her  wonderfully  perfect 
waist,  and  as  he  looked  his  bright  blue  eyes  grew 
brighter. 

"  You  advise  me  to  follow  my  own  inclinations,  Mrs. 
Orlitson?" 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  231 

"  Certainly." 

"  Then  your  advice  shall  be  taken "  And  before 

Katherine  could  get  any  grasp  upon  the  situation,  Dr. 
Sphait  had  leant  forward,  taken  her  two  thin  shoul- 
ders in  the  grip  of  his  large  hands,  and  was  covering  her 
white  face  with  kisses  that  were  half  primitive,  half 
brutal,  and  wholly  unsatisfactory. 

This  was  a  very  poignant  moment,  and  Katherine 
knew  it.  If  this  huge,  pink,  cheery  man  felt  his  power 
not  one  second  of  her  future  would  be  safe.  It  was 
the  sort  of  moment  when  a  lion-tamer  subdues  the  beast 
for  all  time  to  come  or  loses  his  own  life. 

Katherine  would  either  get  this  large,  pink  human 
beast  under  subjection,  or  she  would  lose  all  that  rep- 
resented life  to  her. 

She  summoned  together  her  force?. 

"  You  cad,  you  underbred,  incurable  cad,"  she  cried, 
pressing  the  knuckles  of  one  thin  white  hand  against 
each  of  his  healthy  cheeks  till  it  was  physically  impos- 
sible for  the  caress  to  continue.  Then  directly  she  was 
free  she  rose  and  faced  him.  "  You  insolent,  absolute 
outsider." 

JDr.  Sphait  tried  to  look  nonchalant. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Orlitson,  you  quite  misunderstood ; 
nothing  was  further  from  my  mind  than  insolence.  Per- 
haps my  appreciation  of  your  charms  may  have  caused 
me  to  put  the  cart  before  the  horse — if  so  homely  a 
simile  may  be  applied.  I  ought  to  have  made  my  pro- 
posal first,  and  waited  for  the  rapture  of  an  embrace 
to  follow  in  due  course." 


232  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"What  proposal?"  Eyes  and  voice  were  both  like 
steel. 

"A  proposal  of  marriage.  I  was  going  to  ask  if 
you  will  be  my  wife." 

"  Then  let  the  matter  stay  where  it  is." 

"  You  mean  you  would  refuse  me,  Mrs.  Orlitson  ?  " 

"  Utterly  and  irrevocably !  " 

"  And  suppose  I  pressed  the  matter — very  close — 
very  close  indeed?  " 

"  You  mean,  Dr.  Sphait,  if,  because  you  believe  your- 
self to  be  in  possession  of  some  secret  which  would  ruin 
my  whole  life,  you  made  further  efforts  at  blackmail, 
what  would  I  do  ?  That  is  what  you  mean."  The  huge 
man  began  to  look  less  huge,  and  the  medium-height 
woman's  inches  seemed  to  increase. 

"  I— I " 

"Yes,  that  is  what  you  mean,  and  in  reply  I'll  just 
tell  you  for  the  last  time  how  matters  stand.  You 
looked  through  the  blind,  you  made  a  certain  discovery, 
but  you  have  not  the  vaguest  notion  as  to  how  much, 
or  how  little,  that  discovery  is  significant."  The  blue 
eyes  were  sparkling  less  now,  and  just  once  or  twice  the 
crinkled  lids  fluttered.  Katherine  knew  that  a  random 
risky  shaft  had  gone  home.  "In  point  of  fact,  it  is 
very  little  significant,  much,  much  less  so  than  you 
would  at  all  imagine  by  the  fact  that  I  am  booming 
you  and  setting  you  up  in  a  Harley  Street  practice 
for  the  purpose  of  securing  your  silence.  But,  Dr. 
Sphait,  I  will  now  tell  you  that  I  am  not  prepared  to 
pay  any  further  price  for  that  silence.  Your  idea 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  233 

now  is  that,  in  addition  to  a  house  and  practice,  you 
will  be  able  to  annex  a  rich  wife.  Your  idea  is  wrong, 
for  sooner  than  concede  another  inch  to  your  demand  I 
am  prepared  for  you  to  make  public  all  you  think  you 
know." 

"  But  I— I " 

*'  I'm  sorry  to  talk  so  ceaselessly,  but  it's  my  way — 
when  once  I  begin  nothing  stops  me.  Yes,  Dr.  Sphait, 
because  on  looking  through  a  blind  you  saw  me  sitting 
on  a  sofa  with  my  head  leaning  against  a  man's 
shoulder,  when  I  was  supposed  to  be  absolutely  alone  in 
the  house  with  my  husband's  dead  body,  you  think  your 
demands  may  be  unlimited.  But  all  that  I  intend  to  do 
I  have  done.  I  certainly  prefer  that  people  should  not 
know  I  received  a  visit  from  a  lover  on  the  night  of  my 
husband's  death,  but  if  you  wish  to  tell  them  you  must 
do  so !  I  don't  think  you'll  be  believed,  and  even  if  you 
were,  people  don't  trouble  too  much  about  the  bygones 
of  a  woman  who  is  rich  enough  to  be  useful ! "  Roger 
Orlitson's  widow  shot  a  gimlet  glance.  Yes,  all  was 
well!  Dust  was  being  thrown  right  into  very  bright 
blue  eyes.  "  I  have  made  my  own  little  position,  and  it 
wouldn't  be  easy  for  a  new-comer  like  yourself  to  do 
me  any  harm." 

"  I  have  no  wish " 

"  One  moment  more,  Dr.  Sphait — I'm  wound  up  and 
shan't  run  down  till  I've  said  all  I  want  to  say.  Now 
there  is  just  this  little  detail  to  mention.  Once  or  twice 
lately  when  I  have  not  found  it  convenient  to  grant 
you  an  interview,  you  have  sent  me  very  skilful  little 


234  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

notes,  one  suggesting  that  for  my  sake  it  would  be 
wise  if  a  motor  could  be  added  to  your  possessions,  and 
others  putting  matters  even  more  clearly  and  forcibly. 
Those  notes,  Dr.  Sphait,  I  keep  locked  and  guarded  as 
sacred  treasures,  because  one  day  they  would  enable 
me  to  bring  a  beautiful  action  for  blackmail  against 
the  writer — and  blackmail  damages  aren't  quite  jolly, 
are  they  ?  "  The  lion-tamer's  whip  might  slacken  now, 
for  this  great  crafty  beast  was  nearly  cowed !  "  So 
this  is  how  we  stand.  To  guard  my  silly,  rather  scan- 
dalous little  secret  from  a  small  section  of  society,  I 
have  provided  you  with  a  ground  floor  suite  in  Har- 
ley  Street,  I  have  boomed  you  privately  and  through 
the  press,  and  I  have  even  pretended  to  be  cured  from 
an  imaginary  ailment.  For  another  six  months  I  am 
prepared  to  continue  purchasing  your  silence,  but  af- 
ter that  time,  Dr.  Sphait,  you  must  run  alone,  and  if 
you  care  to  tell  the  world  that  Mrs.  Orlitson  was  carry- 
ing on  an  intrigue  during  her  husband's  lifetime,  and 
that  on  the  night  of  his  death  you  saw  the  tail  end  of 
a  love-scene  through  the  blind,  you  must  do  so!  Do 
so,  by  all  means,  while  I  occupy  myself  by  bringing  an 
action  for  blackmail !  That  is  exactly  how  we  stand !  " 

Breathlessly  she  had  spoken,  and  breathlessly  she 
stopped  speaking. 

Had  she  won?     Was  he  gulled? 

Dr.  Morgan  B.  Sphait  hitched  down  his  snowy  cuff 
and  hitched  up  his  glossy  frock  coat. 

"  Of  course,  Mrs.  Orlitson,  th-that  is  how  we  stand, 
and  very  satisfactorily  for  me!  Pray  don't  let  us  dis- 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  235 

cuss  such  ugly  subjects  as — as  blackmail — such  a  word 
can't  enter  our  business  relations!  It — it  is  only  that 
for  another  six  months  you  will  help  and  patronise  a 
struggling  specialist,  and  after  that  time  he  will  be 
quite  off  your  hands — quite!  I — I  am  extremely  sorry 
that  you  should  have  misunderstood  me  in  any  way,  and 
I — I  apologise  for  my  little  outburst  of  emotional  ad- 
miration. Good-bye,  Mrs.  Orlitson — I  have  an  appoint- 
ment at  four — good-bye !  " 

Katherine  smiled  graciously,  and  held  out  a  thin 
hand. 

"  Good-bye,  Dr.  Sphait,  and  don't  worry I'm 

only  dangerous  when  I'm  roused,  and  I'm  sure  you'll 
be  a  wise  man  and  not  rouse  me  again.  We  understand 
each  other  nicely  now — see  you  to-night  at  the  Grand- 
ages',  I  expect ! " 

And,  cowed,  the  large  pink  beast,  who  would  never 
again  show  his  great  carnivorous  teeth  or  unsheath  his 
hard  curved  claws,  left  the  room,  while  the  iron-willed, 
red-haired  tamer  stood  with  a  triumphant  smile  on  her 
lip-salved  mouth  and  the  metaphorical  whip  of  victory 
in  her  hand. 

The  beast  was  tamed. 

Katherine  waited  till  heavy  footsteps,  a  click,  and  a 
gentle  vibration  through  the  flat  evidenced  Dr.  Sphait's 
departure. 

Then  she  laughed  as  only  Katherine  Orlitson  could 
laugh — low,  throatily,  with  one  burst  of  merriment,  be- 
ing only  the  continuation  of  the  last  re-stimulated  by  a 
fresh  breath. 


236  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  Poor  big  fool !  "  she  cried,  slurring  every  word. 

"  He  may  specialise  on  bodies,  but,  good  Lord,  he 
can't  specialise  on  minds.  How  beautifully  you  took 
it  in,  my  large  country  oaf!  How  gloriously  Kather- 
ine's  experiment  succeeded.  Bravo,  Carrots !  Katherine, 
you're  a  cute,  venturesome  devil,  my  girl !  You  didn't 
know  but  that  the  large  pink  thing  suspected  the  truth 
— yet  you  bluffed  it  out,  you  coined  the  fiction  of  an 
intrigue,  you  hid  facts  by  thrusting  weapons  of  "fiction 
into  his  hands.  And  all  this  time  the  pink  oaf  hadn't 
known  concretely  what  he  suspected  himself,  while  poor 
Katherine  had  been  paying  to  guard  a  secret  that  was 
absolutely  safe!  A  lover!  An  intrigue!  As  if  Kath- 
erine would  waste  her  time  and  energies  on  either! 
Bravo  Kits!  Bravo,  Carrots!  Your're  safe,  old  lady, 
from  the  pink  oaf's  attacks,  and  Mrs.  Burham  is  quite 
wise  enough  to  be  lulled  into  forgetfulness  by  the 
Worldly  Woman.  Lucky  Kits!  Cunning  Kits! — the 
most  decorous  red-haired  widow  in  one  corner  of 
society ! " 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

MRS.  ORLITSON  had  enjoyed  her  solitary  verbal  out- 
burst, and  was  just  deliberating  as  to  how  the  interval 
between  then  and  dinner  should  be  spent,  when  Hendry 
entered  to  ask  if  Manette  might  speak  to  madame 
for  a  moment. 

Katherine  gave  the  permission,  and  the  presumably 
French  maid  came  in. 

"  Please,  madame,  I  to  ask  come  if  I  am  desired  to 
do  the  packing  for  Mademoiselle  Vayne?  "  she  enquired. 

"Packing!  What  do  you  mean?"  snapped  Mrs. 
Orlitson. 

"  I  mean  that  now  mademoiselle  put  the  clothes  into 
her  trunk  as  for  departure " 

"  Nonsense,  Manette,  you  are  dreaming — Miss 
Vayne  can't  be  packing ! " 

Manette  only  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  a  well 
acquired  jerk  as  Mrs.  Orlitson  swished  her  black  rust- 
ling skirts  out  of  the  room,  down  past  the  curve  of  the 
corridor,  and  up  to  Honora's  door. 

She  knocked. 

"Yes?   Who  is  it?" 

"  It  is  me — 7,  I  mean " 

"  Oh— a " 

"Let  me  in,  Hon!" 

A  pause — a  click — then  the  door  was   opened   and 

237 


238  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

Katherine  found  herself  face  to  face  with  an  Honora 
who  was  not  in  the  least  beautiful. 

Her  skin  looked  dull  and  livid,  her  mouth  was  strained 
and  set  unattractively,  her  enchanting  Empire  curls 
were  crushed,  and  even  her  bewildering  eyes  seemed  un- 
effective. 

"  Manette  came  to  me  with  some  nonsense  about  your 
packing,  and  asked  if  she  could  help  you !  What  does 
she  mean,  dear?  "  was  Mrs.  Orlitson's  direct  attack  as 
she  pushed  her  way  into  the  room,  which  seemed  strewn 
with  chaos  and  clothes. 

"  She  probably  means  what  is  true — that  I  am  pack- 
ing to  go  away  at  once,"  answered  Honora,  not  in  the 
least  dramatically. 

"  Have  you  gone  mad,  my  dear?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  think  so — I  almost  wish  I  had — it 
would  be  so  much,  much  easier — I  shouldn't  be  respon- 
sible for  the  wrong  things  I  wanted  to  do  if  I  were 
mad." 

"  I  see — very  logical.  And  what  are  the  wrong 
things  you  want  to  do?" 

"  I  want  to  marry  Bernard  and  commit  perjury — 
oh !  Katherine,  be  sorry  for  me — I — I  don't  know  what 
to  do!" 

And  hopelessly  Honora  sank  down  upon  an  ottoman 
piled  high  with  garments  waiting  to  be  packed. 

Katherine  took  her  right  hand,  held  it  very  closely, 
sat  down  by  her  side,  and  at  last  knew  she  was  justified 
in  believing  the  proprietress  of  Upper  Deerbuck 
Chicken  Farm  to  be  a  girl  with  a  story. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  239 

"  Perhaps,  poor  old  dear,  if  you  tell  me  what's  wrong 
I  may  be  able  to  suggest  what's  best  to  do,"  she  said 
in  a  brisk,  matter-of-fact  way  that  acted  like  an  astrin- 
gent upon  Honora's  weakened  emotions. 

"  Yes,  I  must  tell  you,  but  I  can't  tell — tell  Bernard." 

"  Of  course  you  can't,  dearie.  When  it  comes  to  tell- 
ing things,  men  are  quite  outside  the  scheme.  To  begin 
with,  why  are  you  packing,  and  why  are  you  wanting 
to  leave  me?  " 

"  Because  I  must  be  gone  before  Bernard  returns 
to-morrow.  We  must  never  see  each  other  again — 
never ! " 

"  But,  you  silly  old  goose,  you're  going  to  marry 
each  other.  Poor  Berr  had  hard  enough  work  to  wring 
a  promise  from  you,  so  surely  you  aren't  going  to  be  a 
little  sneak  and  play  him  false  ?  " 

"  I  can't  marry  Bernard,  Katherine — I  can't  because 
/'TO  already  married!  " 

"  My  stars !   Good  Lord ! " 

Doubtless  Mrs.  Orlitson  would  have  known  how  to  be 
a  great  deal  more  emphatic,  but  these  two  commonplace 
exclamations  did  all  that  was  required  of  them  just 
for  the  moment. 

She  had  always  believed  in  the  existence  of  "  a  story," 
but  she  hadn't  imagined  anything  so  convulsing  as  the 
existence  of  a  husband. 

"  I  can't  believe  you  are  a  married  woman — your 
eyes  are  too— too  innocent!  "  she  suddenly  blurted  out. 

Honora's  beautiful  flush  appeared  for  one  transitory 
moment. 


240  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  Th-there  is  no  reason  why  my  eyes  should  not  look 
innocent — my  marriage  was — is — only  a  legal  tie !  " 
she  answered  nervously. 

"What!  Nothing " 

"  Nothing— ever !  " 

"  Then — why  ?  What  was  the  point  of  the  whole 
business  ?  When  was  it  ?  What  does  it  all  mean  ?  " 

"  It  means  that  when  my  father  died  and  left  me  a 
very  few  hundreds,  we  were  living  in  Scotland.  We 
had  been  there  about  five  months,  but  had  only  become 
really  intimate  with  one  man.  I  turned  to  this  one 
man  in  my  trouble  and  incompetency — he  helped  me, 
arranged  everything,  and  finally  said  it  would  make 
matters  so  much  easier  if  I  would  be  his  wife,  and  that 
he  had  been  in  love  with  me  for  five  months.  At  that 
time  I  had  never  cared  for  anybody,  so  I  consented, 
feeling  it  would  be  better  to  have  someone  whose  duty 
it  was  to  look  after  me.  I  was  so  very  lonely,  and 
loneliness  is  dreadful,  Katherine — dreadful !  " 

"  Poor  old  dear !  I  know !  Oh,  God !  don't  I  know !  " 
— and  the  hands  of  two  undemonstrative  women  clung 
closer  together. 

"  Well,  we  were  married  one  morning  by  licence,  and 
directly  the  ceremony  was  over  my — my  husband  re- 
ceived a  cablegram.  Urgent  business  called  him  to 
Germany — it  was  necessary  for  him  to  start  that  very 
hour,  and  it  would  be  a  week  before  he  came  home. 
Twenty  minutes  later  he  caught  a  train,  while  I  went 
back  to  the  hotel  to  await  his  return." 

"And  he  never  did  return,  did  he?    Beast!" 


THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  believe  he  returned,  but  not  till  after  I 
had  gone  to  England ! " 

"But  why  did  you  go?     What  had  happened?" 

"  I  went  because  two  hours  after  his  departure  a 
man  came  to  see  me — a  man  of  the  very  lower  middle 
classes — the  father  of  young  daughters  and  young — 
sons.  He  had  heard  some  rumours  of  the  marriage, 
and  came  to  warn  me — to  tell  me  terrible  things,  to  put 
tragic,  gruesome  proofs  in  my  hands  concerning  the 
man  I  had  married.  To  avoid  publicity  he  had  never 
prosecuted  the  beast — but  now  he  left  it  for  me  to  do 
as  I  wished.  The  poor  shamed  man  went  away,  and 
twelve  hours  later.  I  had  started  for  England,  leaving 
behind  me  a  note  saying  that  if  ever  he  attempted  to 
seek  me  out  the  whole  truth  about  everything  should 
be  made  known,  and  he  should  suffer  the  relentless  pun- 
ishment which  is  meted  out  to  beasts!  " 

"Poor,  dear,  dear  old  girlie!  and  what  did  you  do 
then?" 

"  I  went  back  to  being  Honora  Vayne,  bought  the 
chicken  farm  and  lived  there  as  you  found  me,  and  now 
I've — I've  been  nearly  committing  bigamy !  " 

Katherine  screwed  up  her  white  face  and  looked  puz- 
zled, while  her  thin  fingers  unconsciously  began  to 
massage  Honora's  hand. 

After  a  few  minutes  she  spoke — almost  sheepishly. 

"  I  don't  believe  it  matters — I  would  risk  it  if  I  were 
you.  It  isn't  as  if  Berr  were  a  sort  of  twentieth  century 
god  of  rigid  morality.  I  don't  believe  he'd  mind — 
really." 


242  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  That's  what  I  thought,  Katherine — indeed  that's 
what  I  thought,  and  that's  why  I  promised  in  the  end. 
But  to-day  I've  found  out — things  are  different.  Ber- 
nard has  been  telling  me  that  he  is  growing  to  love  the 
proprieties,  th-that  he — will  want — to  frame — our — 
marriage — certificate!  He  would  care  now,  Katherine 
— he  would — and  I — can't  do  it " 

"  Berr's  a  d d  fool !  " 

This  did  Mrs.  Orlitson  a  lot  of  good,  and  while  Hon- 
ora's  dark  crushed  curls  were  buried  in  a  chaos  of 
clothes — poor  girl  with  the  story !  her  sobs  were  very 
young  in  their  intensity ! — the  red-haired  widow  thought 
with  extreme  rapidity  thoughts  that  were  slurred  and 
hurried  like  her  words. 

A  recollection  suddenly  came  to  her. 

"He  had  a  beard,  hadn't  he?" 

Honora  broke  through  her  sobs  to  be  surprised. 

"  Yes — how  did  you  know  ?  " 

"  Always  felt  sure  your  story  was  mixed  up  with  a 
beard — you  mentioned  beards  once,  and  by  the  way  you 
spoke  of  the  beastly  thing  I  knew  you'd  been  kissed  by 
one  and  found  it  horrid !  Poor  dear !  " 

Honora  sobbed  again. 

"What  was  he  like,  darling,  this  bearded  beast?  " 

Honora  rose  from  the  ottoman. 

"  I've  got  his  portrait,  taken  with  father  on  the 
lawn.  I  didn't  throw  it  away  because  father  was  there 
too.  W-would  you  like  to  see  it?  "  she  said  drearily. 

"  Of  course — I  should!  "  Katherine  spoke  with  dou- 
ble italics,  and  already  stuck  out  her  thin  chin  in  antici- 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  243 

pation  of  gratified  curiosity.  She  felt  very  curious 
about  this  "  beast." 

Honora  dragged  a  shabby  desk  out  of  a  wardrobe, 
and  unlocked  it,  and  took  out  a  photograph  that  was 
twice  cabinet  size. 

"  This  is  my  husband — this  is  Stanford  Golt !  "  she 
said  with  a  shudder. 

Mrs.  Orlitson  took  the  picture,  looked  at  it,  then 
without  any  premonitory  warnings,  slipped  quite  quietly 
and  quite  gracefully  on  the  thick,  comforting  carpet! 

She  was — after  the  manner  of  most  heroines  in  most 
"  popular  "  stories — in  a  dead  faint ! — her  second  faint ! 

It  was  unexpected. 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

BUT  Mrs.  Orlitson  wasn't  a  woman  inclined  to  waste 
many  of  life's  valuable  moments  in  unconsciousness. 

From  her  marigold  hair  to  her  impudent  feet  she  was 
crammed  with  vitality,  so  before  she  had  been  one  whole 
minute  in  the  "  dead  faint,"  that  vitality  got  the  upper 
hand  again. 

"  Don't  be  scared,  dear,"  she  said — just  a  little 
weakly  this  time.  "  I  don't  often  indulge  in  gr-graceful, 
effective  faints,  but,  oh,  Honora!  that  likeness " 

"What?— his?  Stanford's?  what  is " 

"  No,  no,  not  that — I  mean  the  older  man  sitting  in 
the  chair " 

"  What,  father?  " 

"Yes — oh,  my  dear,  if  you  knew  how  exactly  his 
face  is  like  the  face  of — of  somebody  who  played  a 
painfully  poignant  part  in  my  life!  Don't  ask  me 
about  it  now,  dear — I'll  tell  you  some  other  time." 
Possibly  Mrs.  Orlitson's  fictional  and  imaginative  pow- 
ers were  not  in  their  best  working  order  just  at  the 
moment !  "  Of  course  I  can  see  now  the  chin  is  different, 
and  th-there  is  no  scar — but  the  likeness  was  startling 
at  first!  Now,  I'm  quite  fit  and  frisky  again,  so  do  let 
me  examine  that  other  one  of  that  villain  whose  exist- 
ence will  probably  make  Berr  put  a  bullet  through  his 
brain!  We  Bensteads  are  rather  prone  to  find  refuge 

244 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  245 

in  bullets  when  the  outlook  is  too  impossible.  What  a, 
— a — well,  it's  not  altogether  a  bad-looking  face,  is 
it?" 

Honora  shivered. 

"  Don't !  Now  it — it  seems  to  me  almost  pestilen- 
tial! "  she  murmured. 

"  Of  course,  you  nice,  pure-minded  darling,  that's 
just  what  it  should  seem!  I  quite  understand.  It  is 
a  ghastly,  miserable  business,  but  there  is  only  one 
thing  certain — you  and  Berr  mustn't  part !  " 

"  Katherine !  "  And  with  this  exclamation  Honora 
dropped  to  the  floor  a  bottle  of  smelling  salts  which  a 
few  moments  previously  had  been  resting  on  Mrs.  Orlit- 
son's  vivid  upper  lip. 

"  Yes,  dearie,  I  am  Katherine  right  enough,  and 
Bernard  Benstead's  sister,  and  I  know  Bernard's  tem- 
perament, and  I  realise  what  would  happen  if  Bernard's 
life  was  wrecked,  and  I  am  going  to  stop  those  hap- 
penings. I'm  not  going  to  have  my  brother  commit 
suicide  just  because  of  one  girl's  half-affected,  super- 
stitious, conventional  idea  of  morality." 

"  Katherine,  you  don't  know  what  you  are  saying ! " 
This  was  an  utterly  feeble  remark,  but  Honora  felt 
weak,  feeble,  will-less,  and  vacillating. 

"  Many  thanks,  my  dear,  but  I've  not  forgotten  my 
lines.  No  prompt  required !  I  know  well  what  I  am 
saying,  and,  Honora  Vayne,  I  know  that  you  are — you 
are  a  coward,  a  heartless,  contemptible,  despicable 
coward !  " 

Honora's  face  became  dyed  red,  then  blanched  white. 


246  THE     WILD    WIDOW 

A  coward!  Yes,  she  always  had  been  a  coward!  It 
was  part  of  her  nature. 

She  was  a  coward  when  her  father  died,  and  when, 
instead  of  bravely  taking  her  life  into  her  own  hands, 
she  let  it  slip  into  the  hands  of  Stanford  Golt.  She 
was  a  coward  when,  instead  of  confronting  a  nauseous 
man  with  his  nauseous  story,  she  took  refuge  in  flight. 
She  was  a  coward  over  eight  months  ago  when  she  had 
said  "  Good-night "  to  Bernard — and  shut  the  door. 
She  was  a  coward  when,  goaded  on  by  the  yearning, 
unfed  passion  of  her  heart,  she  finally  promised  to  be  his 
wife  instead  of  making  a  full,  sad  confession,  and  she 
was  a  coward  now  when  she  failed  in  strength  to  carry 
out  a  resolve! 

"  And  it  isn't  your  goodness  that  makes  you  want  to 
run  away,"  continued  Katherine's  breathless,  slurring 
voice,  "  it's  only  that  you're  afraid  of  what  the  con- 
sequences would  be  if  Berr  ever  should  learn  the  truth. 
You  pretend  to  yourself,  my  dear  girl,  that  it's  the 
promptings  of  morality  and  conscience  which  cause 
you  to  be  now  occupied  in  packing  your  box.  But 
that  pretence  won't  go  down — morality  has  got  abso- 
lutely nothing  to  do  with  it.  It's  only  fear  and  cow- 
ardice ! " 

"  Katherine,  you  are  unjust,  and  cruelly  unjust.  I 
did  mean  to  be  what  you  call  brave,  and  risk  possible 
imprisonment  for  bigamy  and  everything  else,  until 
Bernard  spoke  to-day.  I  truly  believed  him  to  be  a 
man  without  any  cramped,  conventional  code  of  hon- 
our— one  of  those  independent  men  who  look  almost 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  247 

reverently  on  the  sins  of  women  who  sin  for  love — but 
this  morning  I  knew  that  these  ideas  were  all  wrong. 
Bernard,  of  course,  might  find  some  woman  who  pleased 
him,  and  make  her  his  mistress ;  but  the  woman  he  loves 
— and  he  does,  he  does  love  me ! — must  be  his  wife !  No, 
no,  I  must  not  do  it — for — for  every  reason  it  would 
be  terrible ! " 

"  Terrible !  "  Katherine's  throaty  voice  was  insolently 
contemptuous.  "  I  suppose  you  mean  it  would  be  ter- 
rible if  some  crinkled  up  red  thing  with  irrepressible 
lungs  grew  up  to  find  itself  without  a  paternal  sur- 
name! What  rubbish!  Probably  the  red  thing  never 
would  find  out — millions  of  'em  never  do — and  even  if 
it  did,  it  could  keep  its  mamma's  romantic  little  secret, 
to  itself.  My  dear,  it's  no  good  your  getting  freezy, 
and  freezing,  and  writhing,  and  restless,  just  because 
I  face  you  with  your  own  quite  human  thoughts.  To 
my  mind,  illegitimate  children  are  often  a  jolly  sight 
more  attractive  than  wedlock's  unoriginal  product. 
Naturally  they're  more  spontaneous  and  more  electric. 
They  owe  their  very  existence  to  spontaneity  and  elec- 
tricity. They  have  to  be.  Nobody  wants  them,  but 
they  are  like  beautiful  young  Judas  trees,  so  strong 
with  nature's  lovely  vitality  and  passion,  and  freshness, 
and  impulse,  that  they'll  actually  force  their  way 
through  fences  and  walls  if  they  mean  to  grow.  Wed- 
lock's kids  are  there  because  they  were  meant  and  ex- 
pected to  be  there.  Sort  of  fundamental  physical  laws 
demand  their  arrival,  but  nine  times  out  of  ten  they 
are  conceived  and  born  without  enthusiasm,  spontaneity, 


THE     WILD     WIDOW 

impulse,  ardour,  or  anything  else.  I'm  sure  half  the 
rat-like-mouthed  best-Sunday-frocked,  uncharitable, 
cheese-parey,  church-decorating  women  who  infest  the 
middle  classes  are  only  the  result  of  an  unenthusiastic 
wedlock!  And  the  vile,  smug,  frock-coated,  psalm- 
singing " 

"  Katherine,  Katherine,  this  hasn't  anything  to  do 
with  it,"  interrupted  Honora  piteously. 

"  Yes  it  has — everything ;  you  can't  deny  you  were 
thinking  of  possible  red-crinkled-up  things,  can  you? 
Of  course,  you  can't!  Well,  don't  worry  about  those 
any  more,  or  if  you  do,  look  among  the  lines  of  our 
brilliant  society  and  stage  beauties,  and  see  if  those 
whose  aristocratic  or  even  royal  papas  do  not  share 
surnames  with  their  mammas,  aren't  a  hundred  per  cent, 
more  beautiful,  witty,  accomplished,  and  gracious  than 
the  daughters  of  commandment-keeping  mammas!  Of 
course  they  are,  so  don't  upset  yourself  about  the  red- 
crinkled-up  things  any  more,  and  be  a  decent,  plucky 
girl.  Make  poor  old  Berr  happy,  as  you  promised,  and 
don't  force  him  to  put  a  bullet  through  his  really  satis- 
factory Benstead  brain!  Do  evil,  Honora — if  making 
a  man  happy  can  be  reckoned  as  evil — that  good  may 
come  of  it !  " 

By  this  time  Honora  was  crying  hopelessly  and 
drearily,  just  letting  the  tears  drip  off  her  beautiful 
lashes  on  to  the  bosom  of  her  gown,  without  making 
any  attempt  to  check  the  cascade. 

Every  moment  she  felt  Katherine  Orlitson's  strength 
more  and  more  dominating  her  weakness,  and  the  con- 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  249 

tinuous,  slurry,  throaty  flow  of  words  seemed  to  act 
like  a  narcotic  upon  her  own  failing  powers  of  deci- 
sion. 

A  blouse  she  had  been  folding  and  refolding  for  the 
last  ten  minutes  fell  limply  to  the  ground — a  first  actual 
sign  of  surrender. 

And  Mrs.  Orlitson's  verbal  geyser  wasn't  by  any 
means  yet  exhausted — a  fresh  immersion  of  boiling, 
seething,  bubbling  words  streamed  from  between  her 
reddened  lips. 

It  was  as  though  the  whole  powers  of  her  thin  strong 
body  and  her  clear,  resourceful  mind  were  to  be  expended 
in  the  endeavour  to  make  Honora  Golt  commit 
bigamy ! 

"  Your  marriage  was  arranged  to  come  off  in  a  month 
— it  must  be  in  a  fortnight  instead — and,  as  you  know, 
Berr  has  been  begging  for  things  to  be  hustled,  so 
there  will  be  no  difficulty.  It  shall  be  a  quiet  wedding, 
and  afterwards,  my  dear,  life  will  go  on  rose-coloured 
wheels,  and  you'll  see  the  world  through  oiled  glasses — 
the  other  way,  I  mean — you  know !  Nobody  knows  of 
your  former  marriage,  this  Golt  beast  wouldn't  dare  to 
betray  anything  because  publicity  and  penal  servitude 
wouldn't  make  his  future  career  strikingly  luxurious  or 
successful,  so  you  and  Berr  will  be  absolutely  safe  in 
your  conjugal  bliss!  You  must  swear,  Honora,  you 
must  swear  now  by  something  which  is  sacred  to  you, 
that  plans  shall  remain  unaltered,  except  that  you  and 
Berr  marry  a  fortnight  earlier  than  arranged." 

"  Katherine,  I  ca " 


250  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

Katherine  seized  her  wrists  and  gripped  her  with 
extraordinary  strength. 

"  Go  down  on  your  knees — swear  it — I  can't  have  my 
dear  old  Berr — brother  shoot  himself  because  of  you  or 
any  other  girl  with  fine  eyes !  Swear  it,  Honora !  " 

The  will  and  the  wrists  both  relaxed  their  remaining 
counter-efforts. 

Honora's  knees  were  pressing  into  the  soft,  spongy, 
expensive  carpet,  and  Honora's  resistance  was  now 
like  a  newly  planted  tree  that  had  been  subjected  to 
the  outrage  of  a  hurricane. 

"  Swear  it,  my  dear  old  girl.  Say  after  me — '  / 
swear  not  to  be  a  coward  ' " 

"Oh!  Katherine " 

"  Go  on,  dearie — '  /  swear  not  to  be  a  coward  ' 

"  I — swear — not — to  —  be  —  a  —  coward (Oh, 

Katherine !) " 

"  And  I  swear  to  go  through  the  form  of  marriage 
with  Bernard  Benstead  in  a  fortnight's  time.  (Go  on, 
darling!)" 

"  And  I— I— swear (Oh,  Kath )" 

"Go  on,  Honora!" 

" 1  swear  to  go  through  the  form  of  marriage 

with  Bernard  Benstead  in  a  fortnight's  time " 

"  So  help  me '» 

"  So  help  me God!  "  And  involuntarily  the  last 

great  word  fell  unprompted  from  her  lips. 

Katherine  bent  swiftly  and  kissed  her,  then  before 
Honora  had  risen  from  her  knees  this  red-haired  widow 
whose  will-power  had  never  yet  betrayed  its  trust, 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  251 

swished  her  black,  beautiful  skirts  from  the  room,  down 
the  corridor,  and  into  the  restful  seclusion  of  the  vul- 
garly furnished  "  bood." 

But  to-day  there  was  no  seclusion,  for  the  "  bood  " 
was  already  occupied  by  a  long,  languid  figure,  sensu- 
ously reclining  in  a  huge  wicker  chair  that  was  like  half 
a  bath. 

It  was  Arnold  Smith,  who  smiled  without  changing 
his  attitude  or  putting  down  his  paper  as  Mrs.  Orlit- 
son  entered. 

"  Oh,  I'm  glad  you're  here — I  wanted  somebody — 
I've  been  through  a  desperate  time — positive  nerve- 
racker,"  panted  Katherine,  whose  face  suddenly  looked 
so  white  and  thin  that  sidelights  seemed  to  reveal  the 
uncovered  skull  beneath  the  powdered  skin. 

'« What's  up,  little  woman?  " 

Katherine  dashed  the  paper  from  his  hand  and 
dashed  herself  across  his  indolent  knees. 

"  You  shall  think  about  me — you  must  comfort 
me — you  must  pet  me — I've  done  so  much — I'm  so 

tired "  she  wailed,  dropping  her  effective  red  head 

right  into  the  hollow  of  his  shoulder. 

"  Poor  little  girl !    Dear,  plucky  little  pal !  " 

And  for  once  Arnold  Smith  exerted  himself  suffi- 
ciently to  hold  a  thin  woman  with  a  perfect  waist 
closely  and  comfortingly  in  his  arms,  while  with  de- 
lightful tenderness  he  kissed  the  paleness  of  her  cheeks 
and  the  redness  of  her  mouth ! 

"  Dear  little  pal !     Nice  little  plucked  'un ! " 

Katherine  lay  back  very  contentedly. 


252  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  You  aren't  a  bad  old  boy,  and  I'm  not  sure  that 
you  are  as  good  as  a  sixteen-grain  phenactin  powder !  " 
she  murmured. 

The  late  Roger  Orlitson's  chum  laughed  quietly,  and 
continued  caressing  the  widow's  thin  cheek. 

"We're  all  doing  it,  aren't  we?"  she  whispered  a 
moment  later. 

"  Doing  what,  little  pal?  " 

"  Why  doing  evil  that  good  may  come  of  it.  It's 
the  best  way — the  only  way ! " 


CHAPTER    XXVIH 

MBS.  ORLITSON'S  "  set  "  was  not  in  the  least  surprised 
to  hear  that  the  wedding  of  Mrs.  Orlitson's  brother 
would  take  place  a  fortnight  earlier  than  was  originally 
intended  because — as  Mrs.  Orlitson  said — there  was 
just  a  chance  that  "poor  globe-trotting  Berr  "  might 
be  summoned  abroad  any  minute  to  give  a  brief  per- 
sonal inspection  to  one  of  those  enterprises  which  had 
achieved  the  desirable  result  of  making  him  a  millionaire. 

And  the  "  set "  felt  as  little  interest  as  it  felt  sur- 
prise, because  neither  Mrs.  Orlitson's  brother  nor  Mrs. 
Orlitson's  friend  had  done  anything  to  cause  comment. 

Certainly  Miss  Vayne  was  a  striking-looking  girl — 
a  beautiful  girl  when  she  troubled  to  smile  or  blush — 
and  certainly  Bernard  Benstead  could  be  a  desperately 
attractive  man.  But  as  Miss  Vayne  had  never  tried  to 
be  beautiful  or  blushing  for  anyone  but  Mr.  Benstead, 
and  as  Mr.  Benstead  had  never  tried  to  be  attractive 
for  anyone  but  Miss  Vayne,  the  "  set "  scarcely  found 
them  worth  while. 

Men  who  had  been  snubbed  voted  Honora  rt  provin- 
cial and  poultry,"  and  women  who  had  been  overlooked 
decided  that  Bernard  was  "  stodgy."  From  the  very 
first  day  that  Mrs.  Orlitson's  brother  appeared  upon 
the  scenes,  his  subjection  to  Mrs.  Orlitson's  friend  had 
been  as  much  a  fait  accompli  as  her  glad  acceptance  of 

253 


254  THE     WILD    WIDOW 

this  subjection — and  when  two  people  are  like  that  it's 
unreasonable  to  expect  any  set  to  feel  interested  in 
their  doings! 

In  fact,  when  a  radiant  mid-season  sun  rose  one 
morning  to  make  London  glad  for  Honora's  marriage 
day,  scarcely  anyone  remembered  that  at  eleven  o'clock 
two  people  would  be  legally  transformed  into  one  per- 
son by  licence  at  a  registrar's  office. 

Katherine  was  up  early,  and  Arnold  Smith — who  was 
to  be  the  second  witness — arrived  less  than  twenty  min- 
utes later,  while  Honora  sat  in  her  bedroom  waiting 
to  hear  the  summons  that  the  electric  brougham  was  at 
the  door. 

She  was  dressed  in  white — exquisite  restrained  white, 
suitably  bridal  when  the  fact  of  her  being  a  bride  ob- 
truded itself,  yet  nothing  in  the  costume  of  silk  muslin 
and  lace  would  have  been  out  of  place  on  a  hot  day  up 
the  river — and  on  her  knee  rested  an  open  prayer-book. 

Honora  had  never  been  one  of  those  girls  whose 
spare-time  moments  are  devoted  to  ferreting  out  the 
naughtiness  of  Leviticus,  and  poring  over  certain 
poignant  and  indelicate  paragraphs  of  the  marriage 
service. 

In  fact  she  had  never  entirely  read  the  nuptial  for- 
mulae until  after  the  surrender  of  caution  and  con- 
science to  one  man's  engulfing  passion. 

But  she  had  read  it  then,  and  she  was  reading  it  now 
again,  thankful,  as  the  verbose  repetitions  stood  out 
in  clear  type  before  her  eyes,  that  she  had  persuaded 
Bernard  to  dispense  with  the  church  ceremony. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  255 

"  It's  a  case  of  forcibly  subduing  all  my  newly  ac- 
quired citizenlike  instincts,"  he  had  said  with  the  touch 
of  a  smile  on  his  unmoral  mouth,  "  but  if  I  commit  the 
error  of  marrying  a  *  new  '  young  woman  who  resents 
making  vows  to  '  honour  and  obey  '  anything  so  trivial 
as  a  man,  I  must  put  up  with  the  consequences  of  her 
newness !  And  after  all  it  doesn't  much  matter,  so  long 

as — as "  and  the  sentence  had  been  finished  on  her 

lips. 

Yes,  Honora  was  very  glad  that  she  would  surrender 
her  virtue,  that  she  would  break  God-made  laws  without 
demanding  God's  blessing  on  the  crime. 

And  of  course  it  was  a  crime — bigamy  couldn't  pos- 
sibly be  called  by  any  more  courteous  name! — but  yet 
since  that  turbulent  scene  when  Katherine,  after  the 
manner  of  Katherine,  got  her  own  way,  Honora's  con- 
science— or  cowardice — seemed  lulled  to  sleep. 

She  once  more  saw  things  as  Katherine  saw  them. 
She  realised  that  in  giving  Bernard  her  truly  virgin 
self,  and  in  according  him  the  sole  monopoly  of  her 
fidelity  and  love,  she  was  acting  virtuously  according 
to  nature's  fundamental  laws — and — as  Katherine 
skilfully  pointed  out — the  laws  of  nature  were  made 
before  the  laws  of  man. 

And  on  this,  her  second  wedding  morning,  Honora 
felt  less  cowardly  than  she  had  ever  felt  in  all  her  life. 

She  was  ready  to  go  through  with  it,  ready  to  brave 
risks  and  dangers,  to  deceive  society,  to  deceive  the 
man  she  loved,  to  deliberately  become  his  mistress — 
for,  as  a  legal  marriage  was  not  possible,  this  was 


256  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

the  actual  relation  in  which  Honora  Golt  would  stand 
towards  Bernard  Benstead. 

People  would  call  her  "  Mrs.  Benstead "  when  she 
was  in  reality  "Mrs.  Golt,"  and  when  any  day  walk- 
ing in  any  street  she  was  quite  likely  to  encounter  the 
man  who  was  really  her  husband. 

Naturally  these  thoughts  again  and  again  passed 
through  Honora's  mind,  but  even  when  possibilities  pre- 
sented themselves  in  their  blackest  aspect,  she  never 
for  one  moment  felt  any  desire  to  break  her  oath. 

Katherine  Orlitson's  stupendous  will-power  still 
worked  results,  like  some  powerful  drug  which  lingers 
in  the  system  long  after  its  administration  has  ceased. 

Katherine  had  urged  her  to  do  this  evil — if  it  was 
an  evil — that  good  might  come  of  it.  And  good  should 
come — it  should,  because  after  all  what  is  love  but 
good? 

And  while  Honora  sat  alone  turning  over  the  pages 
of  a  reprehensibly  new  prayer-book,  Katherine  paced 
up  and  down  the  "  bood,"  every  now  and  then  address- 
ing Arnold  Smith,  who  was  standing  before  an  orient- 
ally framed  glass  readjusting  his  tie. 

"  I  shan't  be  able  to  breathe  freely  till  those  two  are 
tied  up ! "  she  cried,  pressing  the  sides  of  her  perfect 
waist  as  if  for  once  her  corsets  were  stiff  and  cramped 
instead  of,  as  was  really  the  case,  allowing  more  than 
ample  room  for  that  thin  sinuous  body  to  bend  and 
twist  and  do  everything  that  a  graceful  woman's  body 
should  do.  "  It's  a  weird,  extraordinary,  paralysing, 
incredible  situation,  isn't  it?  " 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  257 

"  Somewhat  quaint,  I  must  admit." 

Katherine  turned  and  snapped  like  a  spoilt  Italian 
greyhound  might  snap. 

"  Oh !  do  give  way  to  italics  and  emphasise  some- 
times! It  is  so  hopelessly  middle  class  never  to  be  em- 
phatic when  the  occasion  demands — as  if  you  were 
afraid  of  letting  loose  in  case  your  grammar  would  go 
wrong  or  something!  Isn't  the  present  situation  abso- 
lutely stultifying?  " 

"  Ab — so — lute — ly  wn — par — rd — lei — led!  "  re- 
plied Arnold  with  very  obliging  emphasis. 

Mrs.  Orlitson  was  appeased  by  this  undeniable  stress 
laid  on  five  separate  syllables. 

"  Yes,  I  do  think  that  if  any  unfortunate  woman 
was  floating  about  between  the  devil  and  the  deep  sea, 
I  am  that  woman,"  she  went  on.  "  If  I  confess  I  go 
to  the  devil,  and  if  I  don't  confess  it  looks  as  if  two 
other  unfortunate  people  might  tumble  with  me  into  the 
deep  sea !  D'you  think  I've  done  the  best  that  could  be 
done?" 

"  Quite  the  best,  my  dear,  and  when  they're  once 
spliced  there's  nothing  to  fidget  about  any  more,  is 
there?  "  responded  Arnold  Smith  in  the  gently  bored 
tones  of  a  person  who  doesn't  want  to  hear  more  than 
a  certain  amount  of  the  world's  worries. 

"  No,  I  suppose  there  isn't — though  it  does  seem 
sort  of  hard  luck  all  round.  One  thing  I  will  say  for 
myself,  and  that  is  if  Honora  had  persisted  in  refusing 
to  marry  Berr  I'd  have  run  all  risks  and  told  her  right 
away.  I  couldn't  have  been  such  a  sweeplike  sort  of 


258  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

person  as  to  spoil  two  lives  just  because — yes,  Hendry, 
what  is  it?  "  as  the  decorous  footman  entered  the  room 
after  giving  the  regulation  knock  at  the  "  bood " 
door. 

"  The  electric  brougham  is  ready,  madame." 

"Is  it?  That's  all  right!"  Mrs.  Orlitson  stuck 
out  her  thin  chin  and  glided  out  of  the  room. 

"  Honora !     Hon-o-ra !  "  she  called. 

Hardly  any  pause,  then  the  gracious  figure  of  a 
young  white-clad  woman  came  slowly  down  the  cor- 
ridor. 

Honora  moved  calmly,  smiled  calmly,  and  on  her 
face  was  the  vivid  flush  which  made  her  beautiful. 

Katherine  met  her  half-way,  and  slipped  a  hand 
through  her  arm. 

"  Dear,  dear  old  girl ! "  she  whispered. 

Honora  still  smiled,  pressed  the  thin  ringed  hand, 
and  together  they  passed  out  and  into  the  brougham, 
at  the  door  of  which  Arnold  Smith  was  waiting. 

"  I've  lost  my  gloves,  but  you'll  excuse  it,  won't 
you  ?  "  he  said  genially.  "  I  always  do  lose  gloves,  like 
the  man " 

Then  followed  an  anecdote  that  would  have  just  fit- 
ted in  between  savouries  and  dessert,  and  which  on  this 
occasion  most  admirably  served  to  relieve  the  tension  of 
the  moment. 

Katherine  simply  bubbled  and  gurgled  at  every 
point,  and  if  by  accident  she  laughed  in  the  wrong 
place,  the  raconteur  generously  overlooked  any  such 
errors  of  risibility  and  went  on  with  the  anecdote, 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  259 

which  eventually  merged  into  another  that  lasted  until 
the  registry  office  was  reached.  Arnold's  tact  could  be 
very  triumphant  at  times. 

On  the  doorstep  Bernard  was  standing,  big,  bronzed, 
and  lounge-suited,  then  as  he  came  towards  them  and 
looked  at  Honora,  Katherine  suddenly  realised  all  that 
could  be  in  a  woman's  life  if  she  was  wholly  and  abso- 
lutely adored. 

Her  thin  swathed  throat  worked  convulsively  for  a 
second  before  she  moved  closer  to  Arnold  and  followed 
the  lovers  into  the  sordid,  shabby,  dusty  little  apart- 
ment which  served  as  an  office.  The  quartette  were 
greeted  by  a  snuffy  man  with  an  unnecessarily  large 
nose  and  a  soothing,  consoling  mourning  manner. 

Metaphorically  the  sort  of  man  who  always  wore 
black  gloves. 

Behind  a  large  table  strewn  with  papers  sat  another 
man,  whose  nose  was  less  large,  and  whose  manner 
bristled  with  tired  official  importance. 

He  spoke  to  Bernard  in  a  low  voice,  Bernard  an- 
swered sheepishly — then  Honora,  Katherine,  and  Ar- 
nold were  summoned  to  the  table. 

The  large-nosed  man  once  more  approached  to 
mumble  some  particulars  concerning  Bernard's  age, 
parents,  etc.,  out  of  a  book,  to  which  reiterated  infor- 
mation the  bridegroom  mumbled  acquiescence. 

The  same  formula  was  repeated  in  Honora's 
case. 

After  this  the  officially  important  man  cleared  his 
throat,  opened  another  book,  and  stood  up. 


260  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  Bernard   Benstead  —  er  —  er — 'reason — un — un — 

Honora     Vayne — er — un — er — wife — 

"  he  enquired  in  confidentially  indistinct  tones. 

"  Um — er — um ,"  seemed  to  come  from  the  lower 

depths  of  Bernard's  large  chest. 

"  Honora  Vayne  " — he  stumbled  somewhat  over  the 
"  Honora,"  and  finally  pronounced  it  Hon — or — a, 
with  an  aspirated  H — " — er — um — er — reason — 

ard    Benstead — er — um m — m — 


Honora's  response  was  equally  intelligible,  and 
when  she  and  Bernard  severally  repeated  a  couple  of 
sentences  after  the  official  man,  Katherine's  mouth 
stretched  into  a  grin. 

She  longed  to  give  the  well-remembered  gallery  yell 
of  "  Speak  up!  " 

Bernard  then  muttered  another  official  assurance 
and  jerked  a  ring  on  to  Honora's  finger,  after  which 
the  official  man  banged  together  the  book  he  was  hold- 
ing and  opened  another,  while  the  large-nosed  man 
assiduously  dipped  pens  into  a  dirty  inkpot. 

Honora  signed  her  name  clearly,  Bernard  scrawled 
a  hieroglyphic,  Katherine  appended  some  blots  and 
dashes,  and  Arnold  affixed  a  flourishless  signature. 

This  concluded  the  ceremony  which  made  Honora 
Golt  ready  to  begin  life  as  a  bigamist ! 

"  But  are  you  sure  they're  married?  "  enquired  Mrs. 
Orlitson  of  the  large-nosed  man,  while  Bernard  placed 
various  moneys  in  the  official  man's  hand. 

"  Quite  sure,  ma'am,"  he  replied  soothingly. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  261 

"  Do  you  mean  just  because  they've  all  been  mum- 
bling a  few  sentences  nobody  could  hear  that  nothing 
but  divorce  could  make  them  two  free  independent 
people  again!  Is  it  really  binding  and  legal?  " 

"  No  marriage  celebrated  hat  West — min — is — ter 
Habbey  could  be  more  legal,  ma'am  " — and  the  large- 
nosed  man  exhibited  slight  symptoms  of  huffiness.  As 
a  loyal  registrar's  clerk  he  always  felt  antagonistic 
towards  abbeys,  cathedrals,  benedictions,  best  men,  and 
orange  blossoms. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  continued  Katherine  when  a 
clink  from  the  region  of  Bernard's  palm  had  restored 
the  large-nosed  man  to  good  humour.  "  My  poor 
Roger  and  I  wouldn't  have  been  at  all  satisfied  with 
this.  We  had  quite  a  nice  wedding  at  a  church,  even 
though  I  had  been  playing  second  lead  the  night  be- 
fore. My  late  husband  was  a  very  romantic  man,  you 
know,"  she  continued,  turning  to  Arnold,  who  looked 
gravely  and  suitably  interested,  "  with  a  strong  strain 
of  religion  running  through  his  romance.  Such  a 
noble  fellow,  Tim,  possessed  of  every  virtue  a  man 
could  possess!  So  reliable,  so  energetic,  so  economi- 
cal, so  enterprising,  so  unselfish !  Ah-h-h !  " 

Arnold  Smith  echoed  the  sigh  out  of  sympathy. 

*'  It's  always  those  splendid  fellows  who  are  taken 
and  we  slackers  who  are  left ! "  was  his  gently  tactful 
response. 

By  this  time  they  were  all  re-entering  the  electric 
brougham,  and  twenty  minutes  later  reached  Holstein 
Mansions,  where  the  bride  and  bridegroom  had  ar- 


262  THE     WILD    WIDOW 

ranged  to  partake  of  a  swift  lunch  before  catching  the 
2.40  train  for  Transley. 

"  It  does  seem  piffle  to  spend  your  honeymoon  among 
a  lot  of  fowls ! "  remarked  Katherine  as  they  sat  down 
to  galantines  and  Pommery. 

"  Not  at  all — it's  an  excellent  wheeze  to  sponge  on 
your  wife's  hospitality  right  away.  By  staying  at 
Deerbuck  I  get  saved  the  expense  of  hotel  bills,"  re- 
plied Bernard,  who,  after  the  manner  of  Englishmen 
when  they  feel  touched  and  sentimental,  was  presenting 
an  almost  brutally  practical  aspect,  and  when  he  ad- 
dressed Honora  not  one  note  of  tenderness  softened 
his  voice. 

But  Honora  understood — she  was  quivering  and 
throbbing  in  every  pulse,  and  she  understood. 

At  half -past  one  the  bride  changed  into  a  cream 
serge  travelling  costume,  and  at  half -past  two  she  and 
the  bridegroom  were  sitting  in  a  first-class  carriage 
turning  over  the  leaves  of  various  illustrated  papers. 

The  magnetism  of  restraint  was  holding  them  both, 
and  the  fact  of  sitting  comparatively  far  apart  when 
they  might  be  crushed  in  each  other's  arms  was  in- 
tensely piquant. 

"  Another  air-ship  keeping  persistently  clear  of  the 
sky ! "  commented  Honora,  indicating  a  reproduced 
photograph  of  several  men,  several  ropes,  and  a  big 
cigar-like  monster  lying  where  the  laws  of  gravitation 
intended  it  to  lie. 

"  Yes !"  responded  Bernard  lazily,  as  he  turned  to 
the  racing  news. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  263 

But  they  were  neither  of  them  feeling  remotely  in- 
terested in  illustrations  or  winners. 

Each  was  only  thinking  of  the  other,  being  passion- 
ately conscious  of  the  other's  presence,  anticipating 
kisses  to  come,  mentally  living  future  hours  full  of 
rapture. 

"  I  see  two  of  old  Hookenstein's  mares  won  again 
on  Saturday.  He's  got  the  very  devil's — or  Jew's ! — 
own  luck !  "  was  Bernard's  next  observation. 

Honora  laughed  jerkily. 

"  Jews  aren't  so  bad ;  they've  got  some  very  good 
points,"  she  answered. 

"  I've  never  seen  any — even  their  beastly  noses  are 
without  points ! "  replied  Bernard,  with  Christian  hos- 
tility. 

This  was  all  very  banal,  but  it  served  to  keep  the 
moments  poignant  and  aloof. 

Both  continued  reading  steadily,  and  when  a  couple 
of  hours  later  the  train  halted  at  Transley  station  the 
first  marriage  kiss  was  still  ungiven. 

But  ah!  the  rapture  of  procrastination,  the  passion 
of  putting  off! 

The  square  lumbering  fly  was  waiting  to  meet  them 
at  the  station,  and  as  they  drove  through  the  summer 
country  air  neither  Bernard  nor  Honora  made  any  fur- 
ther pretence  of  being  interested  in  air-ships  or  mares. 

The  fervid  hush  and  the  fervid  sounds  of  summer 
were  everywhere,  and  those  two  were  just  waiting  to  be 
happy  as  the  birds  were  happy — as  God  meant  man  and 
woman  to  be  happy. 


264  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

Just  "once  their  hands  met  and  clasped,  but  they 
parted  quickly.  Wonderful  moments  mustn't  be  antici- 
pated. 

Presently  they  turned  down  the  rutted  entrance- 
road  which  Honora  had  left  streaked  with  miniature 
ditches  made  by  the  weight  of  cartwheels,  but  which 
now  was  dry  and  powdered  with  fine  white  dust. 

It  was  summer — it  was  summer,  and  "  love-time  is 
the  summer  time !  " 

The  greeting  of  Mary  Tryke  and  her  husband  was 
respectfully  cordial,  for  the  worthy  couple  approved 
of  matrimony,  just  as  strenuously  as  they  unknowingly 
disapproved  of  love. 

The  lower  classes  of  a  certain  type  understand  mar- 
riage with  its  imperial,  domestic,  and  moral  motives, 
but  they  can't  understand  love.  They  don't  want  to. 
They  wouldn't  know  what  to  do  with  it  if  they  did 
understand. 

"  I've  got  the  large  room  ready,  ma'am,  because 
I "  began  Mrs.  Tryke. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I'm  sure,  Mary,  your  arrangements  are 
splendid — they  always  were — how  nice  everything 
looks — Juliet,  and  Portia,  and  Maudie,  just  as  fat  as 
ever,  I  see! — fifty  more  than  when  I  left,  aren't 
there?  "  interrupted  Honora,  speaking  with  a  rapidity 
that  could  have  outraced  the  swift  volubility  of  Mrs. 
Orlitson  herself. 

Bernard  was  looking  at  the  horizon.  He  didn't 
seem  quite  sure  where  sea  began  and  where  sky  ended. 

"Perhaps  you'd  like  tea,   ma'am?"  enquired  Mary 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  265 

Tryke,  a  shade  less  cordially.  She  didn't  care  for  hav- 
ing her  sentences  interrupted. 

"  I  think  so — yes — er — don't  you  ?  "  answered 
Honora,  addressing  Bernard  without  using  his  name. 
An  extraordinary  shyness  was  possessing  her — she  felt 
as  if  they  had  suddenly  become  strangers. 

"  Yes — it  wouldn't  be  bad !  "  he  replied  carelessly. 

"  I'll  go  up  and  wash  my  hands ;  then  I'll  come  down 
at  once." 

"Right!" 

The  excellent  Mary  shook  her  head  as  she  walked 
into  the  kitchen  where  Tryke  was  making  up  the  fire. 

"Things  is  wrong  there!"  she  announced,  jerking 
her  head  upwards. 

"  Thought  there  wasn't  much  sweet-'earting  about," 
replied  her  man. 

"  Sweet-'earting !  Not  much  of  that !  They've  both 
made  a  mistake,  and  now  it's  too  late  they've  found  it 
out ! "  was  Mary's  verdict. 

"  Aye !  Well,  they've  got  ter  make  th'  best  of  it, 
poor  souls!  Them  as  God  is  joined  tergether,  it's  no 
man's  job  ter  put  asunder!" — and  Tryke  sighed  a 
bucolic  sigh  which  perhaps  wasn't  quite  complimentary 
to  the  excellent  Mary. 

When  Honora  reached  the  large  chintz-draped  room 
she  threw  aside  her  hat  and  splashed  her  face  with  cold 
water. 

As  a  rule  she  used  water  that  was  warm  and  pos- 
sibly perfumed  with  a  few  drops  of  some  aromatic  vine- 
gar, but  to-day  nothing  but  a  cold,  brisk  splash  would 


266  THE     WILD    WIDOW 

do — something  hearty,  something  healthy  to  chill  the 
strange  fires  that  seemed  burning  her  skin  and  burning 
her  senses. 

When  her  face  was  dried  and  lightly  dusted  with 
powder,  Honora  picked  out  every  crushed  Empire  curl 
with  a  long  hat-pin. 

What  else  could  she  do?  Should  she  unpack? 
She  didn't  want  to  go  down — she  dreaded  going 
down 

Tap-tap! 

"  Tea's  quite  ready,  ma'am,  and  Mr.  Benstead's 
a-waiting,"  sounded  Mary's  half-commiserating,  half- 
severe  voice. 

Honora  opened  the  door  and  ran  downstairs  without 
any  further  delay. 

She  was  glad  of  the  summons,  because,  without  it, 
she  would  possibly  never  have  gone  down! 

Bernard  was  already  putting  milk  and  sugar  in  the 
cups,  and  when  Honora  had  filled  up  the  tea  he  cut  a 
piece  of  cake  and  strolled  to  the  window. 

Mary  Tryke  was  scandalised.  She  did  think  a  bride- 
groom might  give  his  bride  a  few  minutes'  grace,  and 
she  did  think  they  would  have  sat  down — rather  close 
together  perhaps — at  table. 

Taking  tea  and  cake  to  the  window  indeed ! 

Poor  things!  Well,  what  they'd  done  they  couldn't 
undo,  and  there  was  nothing  for  them  but  to  make  the 
best  of  it! 

Mrs.  Tryke  really  felt  very  sorry  and  quite  shocked. 

And  while  she  was  feeling  sorry  tea  and  cake  were 


THE     WILD    WIDOW  267 

hardly  tasted — just  because  two  people  were  nearly 
choked  with  emotional  love! 

Uncomprehending  Mary  Tryke ! 

"  Let's  go  for  a  stroll,"  suggested  Bernard  sud- 
denly. 

Honora  rose  at  once,  and  without  putting  on  a  hat, 
passed  through  the  French  window.  She  knew,  she 
knew  so  well,  what  he  was  going  to  say ! 

"  Let's  go  to  the  woods !  " 

In  silence  they  made  their  way  through  crowds  of 
gluttonous  fowls  and  chickens  assembled  to  revolt  be- 
cause the  pail  of  maize  was  ten  minutes  late  in  making 
its  appearance — along  the  rutted  road — up  a  grassy 
slope — across  a  square  half  tree-shaded  field — and  into 
"  the  hush  of  the  woods  " ! 

When  their  love  was  first  born  among  these  same 
trees  it  had  been  an  autumn  hush — but  to-day  it  was 
the  hush  of  fervid,  young,  passionate,  eager  summer. 

They  trod  the  silent  moss,  and  penetrated  farther 
into  the  sun-flecked  shadows,  till  an  enchanted  gloom 
surrounded  them  on  every  side. 

"  Honora!  " 

It  was  just  one  whisper  dropped  from  an  unmoral 
mouth,  but  it  told  everything,  meant  everything,  asked 
everything. 

Restraint,  the  mutual  game  of  make-believe  calm- 
ness, unspoken  anticipation,  had  done  all  that  could 
be  done  to  stimulate  the  magnificent  ferocity  of  human 
passion. 

Honora  and  Bernard  faced  each  other — the  lips  of 


268  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

both  were  white — the  eyes  of  both  were  glassy  and 
dilated 

"  Honora !  You  must  come  to  me  now — it's — in — 
the — hush — of — the — woods !  " 

And  she  went  to  him — she  felt  his  mouth  piercing 
her  parted  lips 

She  was  not  his  wife — not  his  wife — but  it  didn't 
matter — nothing  mattered  now,  nor  ever  would  matter 
again 

"  Bernard!  " 

It  was  a  cry,  almost  an  involuntary,  unconscious 
appeal — but  a  kiss  stifled  it,  and  afterwards  there  was 
silence  in  the  hush  of  the  woods. 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

LADY  CHESHAM — who  was  staying  in  with  a  cold — 
and  her  husband  were  talking — at  least  Evelyn  was 
talking  and  Charles  was  listening,  after  the  approved 
manner  of  well-trained  purchased  husbands. 

"  Yes,  now  that  Honor  a  Vayne — at  least  Honora 
Benstead — has  gone,  Katherine  really  ought  to  have 
someone  to  live  there ! "  was  Lady  Chesham's  conclu- 
sion to  a  long  sentence. 

"  I  thinksh  she  doesh !  Mr.  Arnold  Shmith  sheems 
to  live  there,"  replied  Sir  Charles,  whose  utterance 
appeared  to  become  more  inarticulate  as  the  season 
advanced  and  greater  demands  were  made  upon  his 
conversational  powers. 

"  Don't  say  things  like  that,  Charles,  and  don't  infer 
— inference  is  such  intensely  bad  form.  Of  course  no 
one  would  really  think  any  harm  of  dear  Katherine, 
but  as  she  was  introduced  under  my  wing,  so  to  speak, 
I  naturally  feel  in  a  measure  responsible  for  her  repu- 
tation." 

"  Heavy  reshponsibility — a  widowsh  reputation !  " 

Sir  Charles  would  have  received  a  second  reproof  had 
not  a  sneeze  from  his  wife  intervened — a  stifled,  lady- 
like sneeze  which  reminded  him  to  draw  a  silk  shawl 
round  her  shoulders,  somewhat  in  the  mechanical  way 
which  a  trained  poodle  carries  in  his  mouth  a  news- 
paper that  he  doesn't  in  the  least  want  to  carry. 

269 


270  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

The  kept  husband  is  apt  to  become  a  very  mechanical 
commodity. 

"  Howsh  the  Worldly  Woman  getting  on  ?  "  was  Sir 
Charles'  next  effort  at  conversation. 

"  An  astounding  success — it's  wonderful  how  it 
seemed  to  leap  into  favour  with  the  first  number,  and 
Mrs.  Burham  says  that  little  poem  I  wrote  on  dahlias 
made  even  more  of  a  hit  than  she  guessed  at  first.  It 
seems  strange  that  I  should  have  lived — er — a  certain 
number  of  years  without  guessing  that  I  had  a  gift 
for  writing  verse,  doesn't  it?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,  a  lot  of  hidden  giftsh  knocking 
about,  my  dearesht,"  responded  Sir  Charles,  just  as 
their  private  footman — the  Cheshams  didn't  like  being 
waited  on  by  hotel  servants — entered  tb  announce — 
"  Mrs.  Burham!  " 

Lady  Chesham  greeted  her  visitor  with  the  excessive 
cordiality  of  a  person  who  has  been  rather  fed-up  with 
her  own  society  all  day. 

"  I'm  really  glad  to  see  you ! "  she  exclaimed,  clasp 
ing    Mrs.    Burham's    medium-sized    hand,    which    the 
Toronto    Glove    Company    clothed    in    return   for   bi- 
weekly "  pars  "  in  the  Worldly  Woman. 

"  Ah,  you  won't  be  so  glad  when  you  hear  I've  come 
to  wring  another  poem  from  you!  We  must  have  one 
— we  positively  must  have  one  in  the  first  issue  of  next 
month,"  replied  Mrs.  Burham,  who  knew  that  a  brief 
verse  couldn't  hurt  any  circulation,  while  unlimited 
orders  to  be  sent  and  given  to  every  person  Lady  Ches- 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  271 

ham  had  ever  seen  or  known,  in  any  and  every  part 
of  the  world,  would  be  a  nice  little  help. 

"  My  dear,  I  really  don't  think  I've  time " 

"  Lady  Chesham,  you  must  make  time !  I  know  that 
an  over-devoted  and  over-exigent  husband  takes  up  a 
tremendous  lot  of  time — yes,  Sir  Charles,  I  won't  let 
you  off — but  just  for  half  an  hour  or  so  you  must  neg- 
lect the  unworldly  man  " — Sir  Charles'  smile  was  sickly 
— "  for  the  Worldly  Woman.  We  need  that  poem !  " 

"  Well,  if  you  need  it  I  suppose  you  must  have  it, 
Mrs.  Burham.  Now  how  would  a  little  thing  do  about 
second  love — comparing  it  to  the  second  crop  of  July 
roses,  or  something  of  the  sort?  " 

"  Charming  idea !  Admirable !  And  singularly  ap- 
propriate just  now!" 

"Appropriate?    Why?" 

But  Mrs.  Burham  laid  one  of  the  "  par  "-paid 
gloves  upon  her  lips. 

"  I  won't  say — no,  really  I  won't.  I'm  sure  she'll 
want  to  tell  you  herself — 1  only  know  because  I  just 
happened  to  go  round  there  directly  it  was  settled," 
she  replied  with  ostentatious  discretion. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Burham,  you've  raised  my  curi- 
osity, and  you  must  set  it  at  rest  again — or  else  no 
poem  for  your  next  number ! " 

This  threat  worked  the  desired  result,  and  Mrs. 
Burham  told  her  news. 

"  Our  charming  little  friend,  Mrs.  Orlitson,  has  just 
become  engaged  to  that  very  nice,  very  entertaining 


272  THE    WILD    WIDOW 

Mr.  Arnold  Smith,  and  the  wedding  is  to  take  place 
before  Goodwood ! " 

"  I'm  delighted  to  hear  it — delighted !  Dear  Kath- 
erine!  and  Arnold  Smith  is  really  charming!  I've 
often  thought  I  could  be  half  in  love  with  him  myself ! 
(Now  don't  frown,  you  silly  old  Othello!)  And  when 
was  it  arranged,  do  you  say?  " 

"  Only  this  afternoon.  I  went  round  to  discuss  a 
new  special  column  with  Mrs.  Orlitson,  and  found  the 
happy  man  in  the  enviable  position  of  Mrs.  Orlitson's 
accepted  lover ! " 

"  Very  nice — and  they  always  got  on  so  well  to- 
gether. Of  course  they  knew  each  other  before  Mr. 
Smith  was  seen  about  in  town,  didn't  they  ?  " 

"  Very  slightly.  Just  met  a  few  times  when  Mrs. 
Orlitson  and  her  husband  were  on  their  honeymoon, 
that's  all.  I  know  for  a  fact,  because  some  friends  of 
mine  used  to  know  Arnold  Smith  very  well."  And  Mrs. 
Burham's  tone  was  decisive  and  all-clinching.  • 

Katherine  had  made  her  editress  of  the  Worldly 
Woman,  and  Mrs.  Burham's  lips  were  eternally  sealed 
in  a  loyal  cause. 

In  fact,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  she  had  forgot- 
ten that  Langley  Cross  boasted  of  an  inn  where  week- 
end couples  could  disport  themselves  under  assumed 
names  and  in  sylvan  bliss. 

"  Well,  I  am  glad,  truly  glad ! "  reiterated  Lady 
Chesham.  "  Dear  Katherine  has  chosen  a  really  nice 
man — much  nicer  than  that  florid  Dr.  Sphait,  whom  I 
was  afraid  had  aspirations  in  that  direction." 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  273 

Mrs.  Burham  smiled  steelily. 

"  We  like  Dr.  Sphait,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  his 
future  will  be  particularly  brilliant.  The  Duchess  of 
Hexborough's  extraordinary  cure  has  positively  made 
him.  We  like  him  very  much.  He  and  Enid  are  great 
companions,"  was  her  reply — and  as  Enid  was  one  of 
the  three  marriageable  daughters  who  didn't  marry, 
this  concluding  sentence  was  significant. 

Lady  Chesham  was  thoughtful  for  a  moment.  She 
didn't  like  being  hospitable,  particularly  at  an  expen- 
sive hotel,  but  then  again  she  was  more  than  a  little 
tired  of  being  alone  with  a  husband  and  a  cold  in  the 
head. 

"Are  you  engaged  this  evening,  Mrs.  Burham — 
you  and  your  daughter  Enid?  "  she  enquired,  after 
mentally  totaling  up  the  probable  cost  of  dining  five 
people  without  any  special  courses,  and  with  the  St. 
Monarch's  cheapest  champagne  all  throughout  the 
meal — that  is  to  say,  appearing  at  the  entree  and  exit- 
ing at  the  earliest  possible  opportunity.  The  St.  Mon- 
arch's waiters  knew  Lady  Chesham's  methods. 

"  Well,  of  course  we're  always  engaged — one  always 
is — but  on  this  particular  occasion  we  needn't  be,  if 
anything  more  attractive  turns  up.  Why,  Lady  Ches- 
ham?" 

"  Because  I  thought  of  giving  a  little  impromptu 
betrothal  dinner,  fixed  up  on  the  telephone.  Just  you 
and  Enid,  dear  Katherine  and  Arnold  Smith,  Dr. 
Sphait,  ourselves,  and  another  odd  man  to  balance." 

"  That  would  be  delightful,  dear  Lady  Chesham — 


274  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

we  could  easily  drop  the  other  affair,  because  Enid  and 
I  never  trouble  ourselves  about  politeness  when  inclina- 
tion is  in  the  way."  The  "  other  affair  "  was  dining  off 
three  courses  at  home,  before  attending  a  feeble  debate 
at  a  literary  woman's  club ! 

"Very  well,  then,  let's  try  to  arrange  it,  Charles." 
Sir  Charles  contrived  to  look  partially  intelligent  and 
alert.  "  Go  down  to  the  'phone,  will  you,  dear,  and 
ring  up  Katherine.  Tell  her  I  am  overjoyed  at  her 
news,  and  that  I  insist  upon  her  dining  here  at  eight 
with  Mr.  Smith  to  celebrate  the  event.  Mind  you. 
mention  what  a  bad  cold  I've  got.  Then  'phone  up  Dr. 
Sphait  and  ask  him,  and  also  any  other  nice  suitable 
man  to  make  us  eight  in  number — not  Colonel  Carey !  " 
Colonel  Carey  was  a  War  Office  dignitary  whose  thirst 
remained  persistently  unimpaired  and  unassuaged  from 
hors  d'asuvres  to  dessert. 

"  Rightsh ! "  responded  the  purchased  husband,  as 
he  obediently  left  the  room  and  made  his  way  to  the 
hall  telephone. 

"  I  hope  Arnold  Smith  is  well  off,"  said  Lady  Ches- 
ham  when  Charles  had  closed  the  door  behind  him. 
"  Of  course  dear  Katherine  has  plenty  for  both,  but 
the  idea  of  a  man  living  on  his  wife's  money  is  always 
very  dreadful  to  me — though  when  I  have  to  go  and 
worry  poor  Charles  to  settle  big  bills  that  can't  be 
covered  by  my  allowance,  I  sometimes  think  it  must  be 
a  rather  convenient  state  of  things !  Ha !  ha !  " 

"  Ha !  ha ! "  echoed  Mrs.  Burham,  feeling  cynical 
amusement  where  a  more  human  person  would  have 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  275 

felt  pity.  It  was  just  a  little  sad  to  note  Evelyn  Ches- 
ham's  life-long  game  of  pretence. 

"And — er — oh,  yes — is  Arnold  Smith  well  off?  " 

"  Very,  I  think.  Mrs.  Orlitson  told  me  that  he 
wanted  to  buy  a  country  place,  and  take  a  big  town 
house,  but  that  she " 

At  this  juncture  Sir  Charles  returned. 

"  I'm  heavy  with  meshshages — lemme  get  'em  off  my 
chesht,"  he  said,  dropping  limply  on  to  a  chair.  "  Let 
me  shee  now — (1)  Mrs.  Orlitson  sends  *  tons  of  love, 
and  sesh  you're  a  scrumptious  petling,  and  that  she  and 
Tim  will  revel  in  coming  to  receive  your  blessing  and 
eat  your  food.9  .  .  .  Dr.  Sphait  at  first  thought  he 
couldn't  come,  but  evenshually  decided  that  a  few  rheu- 
matic princes  and  a  handful  of  nervy  dukes  could  be 
put  on  one  side — so  he'sh  coming !  .  .  .  And  for  the  other 
man  I've  got  C.  S.  Lorriner — he's  on  a  diet  cure,  and 
only  eats  dry  toast  washed  down  with  hot  water,  but  I 
told  him  it  was  hish  society  and  not  hish  appetite  we 
wanted." 

Lady  Chesham  threw  a  glance  of  very  real  approval 
at  her  husband. 

This  was  well-doing  indeed.  C.  S.  Lorriner  was  the 
ideal  guest  for  an  hotel  dinner-party  with  charges  at 
so  much  per  head  and  the  customary  criminal  profit 
made  on  wine. 

C.  S.  Lorriner  should  have  the  very  best  dry  toast 
and  the  very  finest  hot  water  that  special  managerial 
attention  could  procure! 


CHAPTER   XXX 

THE  remainder  of  that  afternoon  Lady  Chesham 
spent  in  the  Turkish  bath,  after  which  a  prolonged 
cooling  process  and  continued  inhalations  of  the  Patent 
Concentrated  Southern  Air  Breathing  Ball  made  it  pos- 
sible for  her — attired  in  a  high-neck  velvet  gown  and 
affectively  swathed  with  an  Indian  shawl — to  receive  her 
guests  in  the  inner  lounge. 

Mrs.  Burham — strangely  garbed  in  a  crushed, 
soiled,  spangled  Dress  Agency  bargain — and  the  eldest 
marriageable  daughter — who,  so  far,  hadn't  married — 
arrived  first,  and  looked  hungry. 

Enid  Burham  cultivated  the  Cleo  de  Merode  type 
which,  when  badly  done,  always  looks  hungry. 

They  talked  royalties  for  a  few  moments  till  almost 
simultaneously  Dr.  Sphait  and  C.  S.  Lorriner  appeared 
upon  the  scenes. 

"  So  glad  you  could  put  off  exigent  patients  and 
come  to  our  little  betrothal  celebration,  Dr.  Sphait," 
said  Lady  Chesham,  with  a  funny  touch  of  grande 
dame  patronage  in  her  voice. 

"  Yes,  I  was  able  to  make  work  subservient  to  pleas- 
ure just  for  once,"  replied  Dr.  Sphait,  in  tones  of 
Harley  Street  cheeriness  which  were  quite  different  to 
Seedlingditch  cheeriness.  "  But — er — betrothal  feast  ? 
This  sounds  very  romantic,  Lady  Chesham!  Who  are 
the — er — verlobt?  " 

"  My  dear  friend,  Mrs.  Orlitson,  and  Mr.  Arnold 
Smith — just  engaged  to-day!  Isn't  it  interesting?" 

276 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  277 

"  Delightfully  interesting !  Dear  me !  A  charming 
couple !  Well,  that  really  is  interesting !  " — and  for 
a  moment  it  was  the  overdone  bad  form  Seedlingditch 
cheeriness  again!  Morgan  B.  Sphait  was  just  a  little 
unprepared. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  hear  about  your  unsociable  diet  restric- 
tions," was  Lady  Chesham's  next  remark  made  to  C.  S. 
Lorriner,  while,  by  a  query,  Mrs.  Burham  snared  Dr. 
Sphait  to  Enid's  side. 

"  Yes,  but  I've  got  a  reprieve  to-day,"  replied  the 
gentlemanly  man  with  a  speckled  nose. 

"  A — a — reprieve  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  'phoned  to  my  medico  and  asked  for  a  holi- 
day. Told  him  I  wanted  a  few  hours'  sociable  gluttony 
— ha!  ha! — and  in  reply  the  excellent  person  told  me 
to  eat  as  much  as  I  like,  drink  as  much  as  I  like,  and 
be  as  merry  as  I  like  for  six  hours !  So,  hot  water  and 
dry  toast  can  make  their  exit  from  my  menu — '  just 
for  to-night,  only  to-night,'  as  the  out-of-date  song 
says!  Ha!  ha!" 

Lady  Chesham  jerked  out  a  bravely  cordial  rejoin- 
der, and  had  just  given  Sir  Charles  an  optical  tele- 
graphic message  to  the  effect  that  a  whisper  must  be 
dropped  into  the  head  waiter's  heeding  ear,  when  most 
people  who  had  been  dotted  about  the  lounge  looking 
bored  became  surreptitiously  alert. 

A  woman — a  woman  followed  by  a  man — was  rust- 
ling across  the  huge  hall  with  an  air  of  glorious  in- 
solence which  unconsciously  insisted  that  this  particular 
hotel,  in  fact  every  hotel  in  London — possibly  all  Lon- 
don itself — belonged  to  her  and  her  alone. 


278  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

She  wore  black — wonderful,  mysterious,  iridescent 
black,  suggesting  founts  of  hidden  silver,  hidden 
mother-of-pearl,  hidden  moonlight — with  skirts  cling- 
ing to  the  knees  and  from  them  flowing  and  swirling  in 
yards  of  sable  shimmering  billows  at  the  back,  sides, 
and  in  the  front. 

Her  thin  dead-white  bosom  and  back  were  bare,  with 
only  black  velvet  straps  upon  the  shoulders,  but  the 
thin  arms  were  hidden  by  full,  generous  sleeves  and 
black  gloves.  Her  red  hair  blazed  and  was  puffed  out 
in  marvellous  profusion,  while  the  customary  black  bird 
of  paradise  feathers — which  she  wore  better  than  any 
woman  in  London — swept  backward  and  touched  one 
white  shoulder-blade. 

Her  mouth  was  vivid  with  lip-salve — her  light  grey 
eyes  glittered — her  white  face  was  soft  with  poudre 
veloutee — her  unclassified  features  didn't  matter — for 
once  she  was  beautiful ! 

"  My  dearest  Evelyn,  how  absolutely  sweet  of  you  to 
ask  us,  and  have  us,  and  feed  us ! "  she  cried,  taking 
both  Lady  Chesham's  hands.  "  Of  course  we  are  late, 
but  now  for  the  future  " — here  she  indicated  Arnold  by 
an  insolent  movement  of  one  uncovered  shoulder — "  you 
must  reckon  that  I  shall  always  be  late.  Here  is  Tim, 
and  he  ventures  to  kiss  your  hand  in  spirit!  .  .  .  More 
how-d'you-do's  to  you,  Sir  Charles,  though  we  said 
lots  of  pretty  things  to  each  other  over  the  'phone, 
didn't  we — ah !  Mrs.  Burham,  once  again  ! — how  do, 
Enid? — you  look  like  a  divine  up-to-date  Madonna — I 
do  love  those  innocent  little  hair-droops !  .  .  .  Greetings, 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  279 

Mr.  Lorriner — greetings,  Dr.  Sphait,  and  millions  of 
congrats  on  some  more  miracles  I  hear  you've  been 
performing ! " 

Katherine  rattled  on,  laughed  perpetually,  and  be- 
fore the  other  seven  more  or  lass  dull  people  had  been 
paired  off,  and  seated,  and  provided  with  soup,  an  elec- 
tric current  of  easy,  intimate  sociability  was  making  a 
circuit  round  the  table. 

Everybody  felt  witty,  felt  the  consciousness  of  being 
individually  successful,  of  being  original,  of  being 
smart  when  nobody — unless  it  was  the  bridegroom  elect 
— was  anything  except  commonplacely  mediocre. 

But  the  magnetism  of  Roger  Orlitson's  widow,  who 
would  soon  be  the  wife  of  Roger  Orlitson's  chum,  gen- 
erated its  own  thrills  in  seven  other  bosoms  and  seven 
other  brains.  She  made  them  all,  for  the  time  being, 
part  of  herself,  and  the  sharers  of  her  own  indomitable 
vitality. 

"Salt,  Mrs.  Orlitson ?— it'll  be  awfully  difficult  to 
learn  to  call  you  *  Mrs.  Smith  '/  "  remarked  Sir  Charles 
because  he  couldn't  think  of  anything  else  to  say. 

"  Ah,  but  you'll  never  have  to — will  he,  Tim  ?  "  re- 
plied Katherine,  looking  over  to  Lady  Chesham's 
escort.  The  table,  by  being  small  and  oval,  made  cross- 
conversation  easy. 

"Won't  have  to  what?"  enquired  Arnold  lazily. 
He  was  taking  olives  out  of  a  dish,  one  after  another. 
He  liked  olives.  The  dish  would  soon  be  empty. 

"  Won't  have  to  call  me  *  Mrs.  Smith  ' — no,  I'm  go- 
ing to  be  Katherine  Orlitson — Katherine  Smith-0rrit 


280  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

son,  for  all  time  to  come! — for  one  reason  because 
*  Smith  '  is  too  uninspiring  to  follow  Katherine " 

"  Bad  tashte  on  Shmith's  part !  I'd  follow  in  any 
dishtance ! " 

"  Good,  Sir  Charles ! — and  thank  you !  Yes,  that's 

one  reason,  and  another  is  th-that " — for  a  second 

the  slurring,  rumbling  voice  was  hushed  with  a  hint 
of  reverence — "  poor  Roger  always  used  to  say  if  ever 
I — I  were  left  alone,  he  hoped — but  you  understand — 
his  ideas  were  always  original,  and  as  Tim  doesn't  mind 
being  '  Smith-Orlitson  »  by  *  letters  patent,'  or  '  ENT: 
STAT :  HALL : »  or  whatever  it  is,  that'll  be  all  right— 
won't  it,  Tim?  " 

"  Quite  all  right— cr — dearest.  A  rose — any  other 
name — sweet  smelling — I'm  the  rose !  "  replied  Tim. 
"  In  fact,  I  once  knew  a  man  who " 

And  for  the  next  ten  minutes  Tim  shone. 

"  But,  Mrs.  Orlitson,  what  will  you  do  with  that 
dear,  divine  flat?"  asked  Enid  Burham,  when,  later 
on,  the  conversation  once  more  veered  round  to  the 
main  topic  of  the  evening. 

"  Live  in  it ! "  was  Katherine's  prompt  reply — fol- 
lowed, of  course,  by  a  little  ripple  of  unpunctuated 
laughs.  "  Yes,  sounds  funny  to  sort  of  take  your  hu§- 
band  in  to  lodge,  doesn't  it?  but  I  simply  can't  give  up 
the  flat  after  taking  such  lots  of  trouble  to  choose  every- 
thing in  it,  and  fixing,  and  planning,  and  selecting  all 
th«  oddments  to  suit  my  own  taste.  So  Tim's  going  to 
buy  tke  whole  thing  as  it  stands,  and  I'm  going  to 
make  a  big  profit  out  of  the  deal — though  the  poor 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  281 

thing  is  trained  to  think  that  he's  purchasing  at  an 
alarming  sacrifice!  Not  a  bad  idea,  is  it,  to  sell  one's 
own  flat  and  furniture  to  one's  own  husband,  and  then 
to  make  him  give  back  all  the  money  to  put  in  one's 
own  bank !  Ha !  ha !  " 

Everybody  applauded  the  plan  except  Lady  Ches- 
ham.  She  was  silent  from  sheer  force  of  supreme  ab- 
sorbing admiration. 

She  had  been  maintaining  a  husband  for  some  years, 
but  she  had  never  been  able  to  bluff  the  world  so  boldly 
and  brilliantly  as  this! 

There  was  no  emergency  for  which  this  red-haired 
widow  with  the  perfect  waist  was  not  prepared. 

When  the  St.  Monarch's  second-priced  table  d'hote 
dinner  had  come  to  an  end,  and  Lady  Chesham  had 
risen  for  departure,  Dr.  Sphait  cleared  his  throat. 

"  May  I  venture  to  propose  the  health  of  the  future 
Mrs.  Orlitson-Smith,  with  the  wish  and  belief  that  her 
coming  life-course  may  be  steered  through  happy,  safe, 
and  prosperous  waters ! "  he  said. 

Glasses  were  raised. 

"  Hear,  hear ! "  sounded  the  thin  voice  of  Mrs.  Bur- 
ham.  "  In  all  loyalty,  doctor,  I  second  the  toast !  " 

"  Hear,  hear!  "  was  the  all-round  response — hushed 
to  meet  the  requirements  of  an  hotel  public  dining- 
room.  And  as  Roger  Orlitson's  widow  smiled  first  at  the 
'oecdlingditch  doctor,  then  at  the  one-day  visitor  to 
Langley  Cross,  she  knew  that  the  Harley  Street  suite 
and  the  glazed  periodical  had  nobly  done  their  work. 

Everything  was  safe. 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

GOODWOOD  would  commence  on  Tuesday,  and  Kath- 
erine  Orlitson's  wedding  had  been  to-day. 

In  to-morrow's  papers  the  name  of  "  Orlitson " 
would  again  figure  in  the  same  columns — but  a  dif- 
ferent section ! — that  it  figured  in  nearly  sixteen  months 
ago. 

Sixteen  months  ago  the  name  of  "  Roger  Orlitson  " 
had  been  among  the  deaths,  and  to-morrow  among  the 
marriages  would  be : 

"  SMITH-ORLITSON— ORLITSON.— On  July  24, 
at  St.  George's,  Hanover  Square,  Arnold  Smith-Or- 
litson,  only  son  of  the  late  Eliah  Smith,  of  Sydney, 
Australia,  to  Katherine  Susan  Orlitson,  widow  of  the 
late  Roger  Orlitson." 

Already  Mrs.  Burham  and  her  less  socially  aspiring 
sisters  in  journalism  were  forcing  gush  out  of  oft- 
perjured  stylographic  pens. 

The  bride  had  "  looked  charming  in  the  palest  shade 
of  jeune  colombe  grey,  with  the  effectively  original  ad- 
dition of  a  grey  tulle  bridal  veil  to  match,  and  held  in 
place  by  diamond  stars — one  of  the  bridegroom's  nu- 
merous and  costly  gifts." 

Mrs.  Bernard  Benstead  was  being  pronounced  "  ra- 
diant m  white  crepe  de  Chine,  with  plumed  hat  en  suite," 
and  among  the  other  presents,  Lady  Chesham's  gift  of 

282 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  283 

a  tortoiseshell — celluloid — and  feathered  theatre  fan 
was  duly  being  chronicled,  while  the  information  was 
likewise  given  that  "  before  starting  for  a  prolonged 
Continental  tour,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bernard  Benstead, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arnold  Smith-Orlitson  would  remain  a 
week  in  Folkestone." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  that's  over,  but  I  can't  quite  make 
out  why  Kits  has  done  it ! "  remarked  Bernard,  as  he 
and  Honora  were  being  rushed  back  to  Transley  by  a 
noisy  express  train. 

"  Perhaps  she's  in  love  with  Arnold.  The  idea  is 
primitive,  I  know,  but  there  may  be  something  in  it," 
replied  Honora. 

"  People  do  that  sort  of  thing  sometimes — of 
course ! " 

Then  they  both  laughed  and  kissed  each  other  from 
the  sheer  happiness  of  loving  each  other  and  being 
together — for  that  delicious,  tantalising  restraint  which 
had  preceded  marriage  was  over  now,  and  kisses  came  as 
naturally  as  words. 

Bernard  drew  his  wife  into  the  big  hollow  of  his 
shoulder,  and  went  on  discussing  the  situation. 

"  Yes,  as  you  say,  Mrs.  Benstead  " — it  was  still  very 
rapturous  to  realise  that  name  was  hers — "  people  do 
fall  in  love  sometimes — but  that  isn't  what  Kits  has 
done.  She  isn't  in  love  with  Tim." 

"  No,  I  don't  think  she  is  in  love,  though  I  think  she 
loves — or  nearly  loves — him,  which  is  a  very  different 
matter." 

"  Umph !     P'r'aps  !  "  Bernard  wasn't  an  expert  at 


284  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

subtleties.  "  I  don't  believe  he  even  nearly  loves  her, 
though." 

"  Oh,  yes,  Berr,  he  does — at  least,  as  far  as  it  is  pos- 
sible for  him  to  love  anyone.  There  are  some  who  can't 
love,  no  matter  how  nicely  and  affectionately  they  try !  " 

"  And  some  women  too,  I  suppose?  " 

"  No,  not  women — all  women  can  love.  There  was 
never  yet  a  woman  born  who  didn't  have  it  in  her  power 
to  love  something — perhaps  a  man,  perhaps  a  child, 
perhaps  an  animal — far  more  dearly  than  she  loves  her- 
self. But  men,  some  men,  haven't  the  capacity  for  de- 
votion, just  as  some  people  haven't  an  ear  for  music. 
And  I  believe  Tim  is  one  of  them.  It  would  be  just  as 
impossible  for  him  to  really  love  as — as — for  you  to 
sing  '  Rule  Britannia  '  in  tune !  " 

Here  Honora  paused  to  receive  due  punishment  for 
this  last  deliberate  impertinence.  Then  the  conversa- 
tion continued. 

"Well,  if  Tim  could  really  love,  and  Kits  is  only 
amiably  fond  of  him,  I'm  dashed  if  I  can  see  why  they've 
tacked  themselves  on  to  each  other's  lives." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know — every  man  needs  some  woman  in 
his  life,  and  every  woman  is  better  off  when  she's  walk- 
ing in  a  man's  shadow." 

"  Yes,  but  not  a  man  who  prefers  his  sport,  his  food, 
and  himself  generally  to  his  wife !  " 

"  I  wouldn't  be  sure — one  can  never  tell  the  tastes 
of  other  people.  It's  my  belief  that  Katherine  actually 
wouldn't  like  loving  and  being  loved  as — as  we  under- 
stand it,  Berr ! " 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  285 

He  bent  and  kissed  her  fervently — on  the  lips,  not  at 
all  a  marital  kiss. 

"  I — I  don't  think  anyone  could  understand  it  as  we 
understand,  darling,"  he  answered  after  a  moment; 
"  but  all  the  same,  I  wish  poor  little  Kits'  second  ven- 
ture was  a  bit  nearer  being  the  real  thing.  I  wonder 
if  she  was  desperately  keen  on  Roger! — poor  chap!  I 
often  wish  I'd  seen  him!  Perhaps  she  was  so  awfully 
fond  of  him  that  actually  the  notion  of  loving  any 
other  man  would  be  distasteful." 

Honora  didn't  say  anything,  and  she  managed  not 
to  smile — but  it  was  not  easy  for  anyone  who  remem- 
bered Mrs.  Orlitson  within  four  months  of  her  be- 
reavement!— Mrs.  Orlitson,  who  had  brought  life,  and 
fun,  and  gaiety,  and  flippancy  to  the  chicken  farm  when 
her  widowhood  was  still  in  its  earliest  infancy ! 

No,  Honora  did  not  think  that  Katherine  had  been 
"  desperately  keen  "  on  her  first  husband ! 

"  I  wonder  how  we  shall  enjoy  the  partie  caree  tour," 
was  Bernard's  next  observation,  after  several  more 
miles  had  been  left  behind. 

"  Immensely — of  course." 

"  Yes,  of  course ;  but  I  shall  be  sorry  to  leave  the 
farm,  the  farm  where  I  found  my  wife  among  the  fowls 
— that  wife  who  wanted  the  very  devil  of  a  lot  of  trap- 
ping, and  leaving,  and  persuading,  before  she'd  marry 
me !  You  were  very  much  off  me  at  first,  weren't  you, 
sweetheart  ?  " 

Honora  looked  up  at  him,  then  suddenly  threw  both 
arms  round  his  neck  and  buried  her  face  in  his  throat. 


286  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  Off  him !  "  when  she  had  been  his  from  that  very 
first  moment  when  his  quizzical  eyes  met  hers  among 
the  shadows  of  the  wood ! — when  her  resistance  had  been 
agony — and  when  now — even  though  there  were  hideous 
truths  lurking  at  every  corner  of  life's  rose-strewn 
highway — existence  spent  with  him  meant  the  consum- 
mation of  all  her  heart  had  ever  needed. 

The  train  accelerated  speed,  causing  an  increased 
vibration  which  suddenly  flung  Honora  yet  closer 
against  her  husband's  breast.  Again  his  unmoral 
mouth  found  her  vivid  separated  lips  in  a  kiss  of  un- 
fulfilled desire — for  though  she  was  his  wife,  his  every- 
thing that  a  woman  can  be  to  a  man,  Bernard  always 
felt  as  though  their  love  story  had  hardly  yet 
begun. 

Every  kiss  was  a  kiss  of  courtship,  every  morning 
the  commencement  of  a  honeymoon,  and  every  night 
the  consummation  of  a  wedding  day. 

There  was  no  satiety,  and,  curiously,  little  intimacy, 
for  although  their  love  relations  were  electric  with  ar- 
dour, both  Bernard  and  Honora  were  sufficiently  artists 
in  passion  to  realise  the  disastrous  effects  of  complete 
marital  intimacy. 

Just  as  the  first  journey  after  their  marriage  had 
ended  without  a  kiss,  so  forty-eight  hours  would  often 
pass  almost  without  touch  of  lips  or  hands. 

There  was  a  continual  garnering  of  emotions,  with 
harvests  of  rapture  in  between. 

And  to-day  it  was  harvest  time.  During  the  brief 
stay  at  Katherine's  flat,  and  during  the  rush  of  wedding 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  287 

preparations,  Bernard  and  his  wife  had  seen  little  or 
nothing  of  each  other. 

But  passion's  seeds  had  been  sowing  afresh,  and  now 
it  was  time  to  reap. 

The  train  rocked  and  swayed,  they  swayed  with  it, 
lips  and  bodies  being  pressed  closer  together  with  every 
vibration,  till  at  last,  when  speed  slackened  before  en- 
tering Transley  station,  both  felt  that  the  ending  of 
this  short  journey  was  one  of  life's  best  hours  gone. 

But  it  was  peaceful  and  perfect  to  be  back  at  the 
scene  of  their  first  love-meeting,  and  when  they  entered 
the  cool,  shady  dining-room,  where  Mary  Tryke's  yel- 
low cakes  and  yellow  apricot  jam  were  set  out  ready  for 
tea,  Bernard  suddenly  raised  his  wife's  hand  to  his  lips 
and  kissed  it  with  a  mouth  which,  at  that  moment,  looked 
absolutely  moral. 

This  half -ceremonious  caress  was  an  act  of  homage 
—the  homage  which  most  men  carry  at  their  hearts 
to  be  laid  at  the  shrine  of  a  love  that  is  lawful,  a  woman 
who  is  pure,  and  a  child  that  is  their  own. 

That  evening  after  supper  Bernard  and  Honora 
played  draw  bridge  at  tenpence  a  hundred,  went  to  bed 
early,  rose  early  the  next  morning,  walked  over  the 
downs  before  breakfast,  collected  eggs  after  breakfast, 
lunched  in  the  paddock,  dozed  beneath  the  shadow  of 
a  hayrick  after  lunch,  paid  several  formal  calls  to 
Bessie's  stye — Honora,  in  a  burst  of  happy  absurdity, 
insisted  on  leaving  cards,  which  Bessie  demolished  with 
the  slow  greed  of  an  epicure — and  altogether  spent 
twenty  hours  of  complete  domestic  contentment. 


288  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  It's  quite  extraordinary  how  happy  we  are,  isn't 
it?"  remarked  Bernard,  as  they  left  the  porcine  quar- 
ters and  walked  slowly  towards  the  house.  He  spoke  in 
an  unbiassed,  practical  tone  of  voice  amusingly  free 
from  enthusiasm. 

"  It  is,  but  I  suppose  we  shall  get  over  it  in  time," 
replied  Honora  reflectively. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  so ! " 

A  silence — a  furtive  laugh — the  swift,  surreptitious 
linking  and  unlinking  of  two  hands  that  happened  to 
be  near  each  other  and  idle — then  one  of  those  dreamy 
silences  which  fill  up  a  lot  of  gaps  that  would  be  spoilt 
by  words. 

It  was  a  beautiful,  mellow  silence,  and  when  a  woman's 
raucous,  spiteful  voice  broke  through  the  magic  mute- 
ness, Honora  flinched  as  though  she  had  suffered  some 
physical  hurt. 

On  the  other  side  of  a  hedge  Mary  Tryke  was  speak- 
ing in  the  loud,  bullying  tones  of  lower  class  feminine 
anger. 

"  'Ow  dare  you  come  'ere  and  play  with  my  Charlie, 
you  shameful  'ussy.  Your  mother  ought  to  'ave  enough 
decency  to  keep  you  a'-tome — though  'tisn't  to  be  ex- 
pected she'd  know  what  decency  is !  Get  along  with  you, 
and  don't  let  me  catch  you  skulking  round  'ere  again !  " 

"But,  mother,  we  'aven't  finished  playing  snakes," 
whimpered  the  root  vegetable-like  son  of  the  Trykes. 

"  I  don't  care — you  must  find  a  reppy-table  com- 
panion ter  play  with,  and  not  a — humph !  well,  it's  not 
for  me  to  use  the  word,  but " 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  289 

At  this  juncture  the  excellent  matron's  harangue 
came  to  a  premature  halt,  owing  to  the  appearance  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Benstead  on  the  scene — for  Bernard  and 
Honora  had  skirted  the  hedge  to  confront  Mary  Trjke, 
who  was  red  and  active  with  anger,  Charlie  Tryke,  who 
was  freckled  and  resentful,  and  a  little  girl  who  was 
crying  softly  and  very  piteously. 

She  was  a  particularly  pretty  little  girl,  with  some- 
thing besides  the  pink  beauty  of  rustic  childhood  in  her 
face,  and  her  blue  tear-filled  eyes  already  seemed  as  if 
they  were  reflecting  tumultuous  human  emotions. 

"  Who  is  this  little  girl,  and  what  has  she  done  ?  " 
demanded  Honora,  laying  one  hand  on  the  child's  pina- 
fored  shoulder.  The  little  girl  looked  up  at  her  and 
moved  nearer. 

"  It's  Biddy  (Jennifer,  ma'am,"  answered  Mary  sul- 
lenly. 

"  And  what  has  she  done  that  you  should  speak  so — 
so  inhumanly  and  abominably  ? "  The  beautifying 
flush  had  deepened  on  Honora's  face,  and  her  wonderful 
eyes  were  dilated,  while  Bernard  remained  in  the  back- 
ground. 

These  were  his  wife's  premises,  his  wife's  employes, 
and  his  interference  would  be  an  impertinence.  But 
he  was  there  if  she  wanted  him — he  would  always  be 
everywhere  and  anywhere  if  she  wanted  him. 

"  Excuse  me,  ma'am,  if  you  knew  the  circumstances 
you  would " 

"  What  are  the  circumstances  ?  " 

"  I'd — I'd     rather     not     say,     ma'am "     Here 


290  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

Mrs.  Tryke  paused  and  glanced  significantly  at  Ber- 
nard. 

Honora  was  now  holding  the  little  girl  by  the  hand. 

"  I  order  you  to  say,"  she  answered.  "  No  child  is 
spoken  to  like  that  on  my  premises  without  an  explana- 
tion being  given.  What  has  this  little  girl  done  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  'er  so  much,  ma'am,  as  'er  mother !  " 

"  And  what  has  her  mother  done  ?  " 

"  Well,  ma'am,  if  you  witt  make  me  say  such  things 
in  front  of  a  gentleman,  Biddy's  father  wasn't  never 
married  to  her  mother!" 

Honora  grew  very  white.  A  terrible,  awful  passion 
was  surging  within  her.  For  a  moment  it  seemed  as 
if  she  could  not  speak — but  at  last  the  words  came — 
tense,  restrained,  low-spoken  words. 

"  Do  you  mean,  is  it  possible  that  you  were  daring 
to  send  this  inoffending  little  girl  away  from  my  farm 
just  because  her  parents  were  not  married?  Is  it  pos- 
sible that  lower  class  bigotry  and  criminal  narrow- 
mindedness  can  have  reached  such  an  appalling  and 
horrible  pitch?  " 

"Well,  ma'am,  it's  for  you  to  do  what  you  like  on 
your  farm,  but  it's  not  for  me  to  'ave  my  child  asso- 
ciating with  low-born  bast " 

But  by  an  upraised  hand  Honora  stopped  the  word. 

"  Yes,  it  is  for  me  to  do  what  I  like  on  my  farm,  and 
what  I  now  do  is  to  give  you  and  your  husband  notice ! 
Understand  that  you  all  leave  Deerbuck  a  month  from 
to-day.  Bernard,  please  will  you  carry  Biddy  in  to 
tea?  I  know  you'd  like  a  ride,  wouldn't  you,  Biddy?  " 


THE     WILD    WIDOW  291 

Biddy's  dancing  eyes — from  which  the  tears  had  dis- 
appeared— left  no  room  for  doubt  upon  the  subject, 
and  as  Bernard  obediently  hoisted  the  small,  nameless 
person  on  to  his  large  shoulder,  he  felt  towards  his  wife 
as  he  had  never  felt  before. 

Until  then  he  believed  he  had  gone  through  all  the 
gamut  of  emotions  so  far  as  Honora  was  concerned, 
but  after  witnessing  the  girl's  splendid,  great-hearted 
passion,  he  knew  there  was  something  else. 

And  never  before  had  Biddy  understood  the  royal 
munificence  conveyed  by  that  one  word  "  tea." 

She  had  a  little  cloth  and  little  tray  all  to  herself, 
and  the  disagreeable  woman  was  ordered  to  bring  hot 
cakes,  and  preserves,  and  fruits,  and  honey,  while  the 
beautiful  dark-eyed  lady  spread,  and  cut,  and  pared, 
and  tried  to  make  her  eat  more  than  Biddy's  little 
stomach  could  hold  with  anything  like  comfort. 

It  was  a  regal  time,  and  when  at  last  Biddy  was  sent 
home  with  genial  David  Gedge  in  the  hay  cart,  she  felt 
very  pleased  that  the  disagreeable  woman  had  stopped 
her  playing  snakes  with  the  ugly  little  boy. 

Honora  stood  at  the  window  and  waved  till  the  hay 
cart  was  out  of  sight,  then  she  turned  round  and  sobbed 
tempestuously  on  the  large  shoulder  of  Bernard's  coat. 

He  didn't  say  anything,  but  there  is  no  doubt  that 
tender  pats  and  pressures,  and  little  sudden  squeezes, 
are  at  times  more  emollient  than  words. 

They  proved  so  in  this  instance,  and  after  a  much 
shorter  interval  than  might  have  been  expected,  Honora 
contrived  to  make  a  connected  remark. 


"  Isn't  it  an — an — infamous  world,  Berr  ?  "  she 
jerked  out  tremulously. 

"  Yes,  darling,  I  suppose  it  is."  There  was  the  man's 
cautious,  more  reasonable  leniency  in  his  tones. 

"  Oh,  don't  '  suppose ' ;  you  must  be  so  sure  after 
to-day's  experience!  Poor  innocent,  unoffending  little 
Biddy!" 

"  Poor  kid ;  But  she  and  her  erring  mamma  have 
been  well  avenged."  The  man's  levity  in  his  voice  hurt 
her  just  a  little.  "  You've  discharged  two  excellent 
servants  for  their  sakes — what  are  you  going  to  do 
without  'em,  darling?  " 

Honora  looked  at  him  half  shyly — it  was  a  pretty 
look. 

'*  If  you  think  you  can  afford  to  keep,  feed  and  clothe 
me  altogether,  I  propose  to  give  up  the  farm,"  she 
said. 

The  millionaire — it  was  always  so  difficult  to  remem- 
ber that  Bernard  Benstead  was  a  millionaire — gave  her 
left  ear  a  small  pinch. 

"  I  b'lieve  I  could  run  to  it,"  he  answered,  still  con- 
tinuing the  soothing  pats  and  strokes. 

"  Then  at  that  rate  I — I  shall  give  the  farm  to  little 
Biddy!" 

"  My— dear !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  Berr,  I  shall.  The  mother  can  manage 
it  for  her,  with  help — I  shall  see  about  a  reliable  man 
— and  then  the  poor  little  soul  will  be  a  person  of 
property  in  her  tiny  way.  Something  must  be  done 
to  make  up  to  her  for  to-day  and  all  the  to-morrows  !  " 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  293 

Bernard  laughed  very  much,  and  kissed  his  wife  very 
often. 

"  Of  all  the  emotional,  silly,  sweet,  absurd,  darling, 
exaggerated  young  women  I've  ever  met,  my  *  good 
lady '  is  the  most  so !  Fancy  giving  away  some  hun- 
dreds of  excellent  fowls,  half  a  score  of  desirable  pigs, 
and  a  most  commodious  house  to  a  small  kid,  just  be- 
cause its  parents  are  a  couple  of  blackguards !  " 

"  Blackguards,   Berr?     Wh — what   do  you  mean?" 

Honora  had  drawn  back  from  the  most  intimate  close- 
ness of  the  embrace,  and  her  voice  sounded  chill. 

"  I  mean,  darling,  that  two  people  who  wilfully,  and 
for  their  own  satisfaction,  hurl  some  unfortunate  hu- 
man creature  into  the  world  weighted  by  the  band  of  ille- 
gitimacy, ought  to  be  sent  to  penal  servitude.  Let  peo- 
ple do  what  they  like  with  their  own  morals,  of  course, 
but  when  it's  come  to  a  child — ugh!  it's  brutal !" 

"  Have  you  always  thought  this — this  sort  of  thing, 
Bernard?" 

"  Always.  Mary  Tryke's  attitude  is  only  the  world's 
attitude.  I've  seen  it  and  realised  it  so  often,  and  by 
heavens,  if  I  thought  that  the  crime  of  leaving  an  ille- 
gitimate son  or  daughter  could  be  put  down  to  my  ac- 
count, I'd — good  Lord!  I'd  feel  very  much  inclined  to 
put  an  end  to  the  poor  devil — or  myself !  The  father's 
bad  enough  in  such  cases,  but  in  a  way  I  think  the 
mother's  worse,  because  one  expects  pity  and  compas- 
sion from  a  woman — and  a  woman  who  brings  a  name- 
less child  into  the  world  has  neither.  Don't  you  agree 
with  me,  Mrs.  Big-Eyes?  " 


294  THE     WILD    WIDOW 

Honora  looked  at  him  in  a  dazed,  unseeing  way,  and 
answered  mechanically. 

"  I  do — oh,  yes — I  agree  with  you ! "  Then  she  lay 
back  against  his  shoulder  once  more,  and  pressed  her 
hand  to  her  forehead — theatrically. 

"  Darling,  does  the  poor  little  black-curled  head 
ache?"  cried  Bernard,  bending  over  her.  The  mar- 
riage was  too  young  yet  for  him  to  disregard  such 
pathetic  signs  as  a  hand  pressed  to  a  brow. 

"  Terribly,  Berr — it  is  a  sudden  attack  of  neural- 
gia— I  think  Mrs.  Tryke  must  have  brought  it 
on." 

"  Poor  little  girl — lean  back  and  rest ! " 

Honora's  head  dropped  back  against  his  shoulder, 
and  in  a  furtive,  quick  way  she  stroked  just  where  the 
hair  grew  thickest  above  his  collar,  while  her  lash- 
shadowed  eyes  continually  sought  the  bronze  of  his  ear 
and  of  his  cheek. 

Now  she  must  touch  him  and  look  at  him  as  much  as 
possible — she  must  have  her  fill  of  close  contact,  because 
soon  it  would  all  be  over. 

To-night  and  past  memories  would  have  to  serve 
for  all  days  to  come,  so  she  must  make  the  most  of  it 
— the  most  of  it — the  most  of  it ! 

Honora  pressed  closer  to  his  side,  and  as  the  even- 
ing shadows  fell  she  feigned  sleep  as  an  excuse  for  ly- 
ing undisturbed  upon  his  breast.  The  last  time — the 
last  time! 

Presently  a  clock  struck — nine  resonant  strokes — 
and  Honora  felt  a  movement  of  the  big  shoulder  against 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  295 

which  she  was  lying.  Of  course  he  was  cramped  and 
stiff. 

She  rose  slowly  and  stretched,  feigning  recent  sleep. 

"  Head  better,  sweetheart  ?  " 

"  No,  dear,  it's — it's — worse !  Berr — dear — if  you 
don't  mind,  I  think  I'll  bathe  my  neck — at  the  back,  you 
know — with  hot  water,  and  go  to  bed  at  once.  Nothing 
but  a  long,  sound  sleep  puts  me  right  when  I  get  these 
attacks." 

She  had  risen  by  this  time,  and  was  steadying  herself 
against  the  back  of  his  chair.  He  put  both  hands 
against  the  sides  of  her  waist. 

"  Can't  I  do  anything,  my  poor  little  girlie  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  Berr,  nothing — except,  oh,  do,  do,  say 
once  more  you  love  me — say  you  really,  really  love  me ! " 

He  pressed  her  down  on  to  his  knees. 

"  I  don't  love  you — I  adore  you !  •  You've  remoulded 
me,  you've  turned  me  into  a  prig,  you've  transformed 
me,  you've  done  more  to  me  than  any  woman  has  ever 
yet  done  to  a  man.  O  God,  Honora,  you've  taught  me 
what  it  is  to  live !  " 

She  clung  to  him,  she  more  than  responded  to  his 
kisses,  and  when  his  lips  left  hers  she  sought  his  mouth 
again. 

It  was  a  woman's  wild,  frantic  good-bye  to  happiness. 
Honora  would  go  back  to  where  she  was  before  that 
day  in  the  hush  of  the  woods — go  back,  yet  without  the 
one  consolation  of  being  able  to  look  expectantly  down 
that  long,  white  road  of  What-might-be. 

She  had  looked  down  the  long,  white  road,  and  when 


296  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

a  knight  had  ridden  towards  her  the  strained  expectancy 
left  her  eyes. 

But  now  she  must  leave  the  knight,  and  never,  never 
again  would  there  be  anything  to  expect. 

At  last  Honora  rose  and  moved  away. 

"  Good-night,  Berr — good-night !  " 

"  Good-night,  darling — let  me  know  if  I  can  do  any- 
thing. I  shall  reckon  to  find  you  unwakeably  asleep 
when  I  come  up.  Good-night,  my  Honora ! " 

"  My  Honora!  " 

She  would  like  to  think  that  these  had  been  his  last 
words ! 

Directly  Honora  reached  their  bedroom  she  carried 
a  few  of  Bernard's  immediate  necessities  across  to  the 
room  which  he  used  to  occupy  in  the  "  P.G."  days ; 
then  she  scribbled  a  little  pencilled  note: 

"  Please,  dear  love,  would  you  mind  sleeping  in  your 
own  room  to-night?  I  believe  a  sound  would  wake  me, 
and  I  must  sleep  off  this  frantic  headache.  Good-night. 

Your  HONORA." 

"Mary!" 

The  outraged  and  dignified  Mrs.  Tryke  was  crossing 
the  passage,  so  there  was  no  need  for  Honora  to  ring  a 
bell. 

"Yes,  ma'am?"  The  response  was  justly  and  suit- 
ably haughty. 

"  Please  give  this  note  to  Mr.  Benstead  at  once,  and 
ask  Tryke  to  have  the  cart  ready  by  seven  to-morrow 
morning.  I — I  may  want  to  send  some  things  over  to 
Transley  station ! " 


THE     WILD    WIDOW  297 

A  moment  later  Honora  was  in  her  own  room,  with 
the  key  turned  in  the  lock. 

So  it  was  over — it  was  over — it  was  over ! — and  Ben- 
stead  had  brought  about  the  end. 

Not  another  hour  must  they  be  together,  not  one 
poignant  moment  which  might  bring  about 

Honora  covered  her  face. 

What  was  it  he  had  said? — "  that  if  he  thought  the 
crime  of  leaving  an  illegitimate  son  or  daughter  could 
be  put  down  to  his  account,  he'd  feel  inclined  to 
shoot  the  poor  devil,  or  himself — and  that  though  in 
such  cases  the  father  was  bad,  the  mother  was  worse, 
because  pity  and  compassion  are  to  be  expected  from  a 
woman,  and  the  woman  who  brings  a  nameless  child 
into  the  world  has  neither." 

Yes,  that  was  it,  and  if  they  stayed  together  and 
their  love  gave  them  a  child,  Bernard  would  feel  in- 
clined to  shoot  himself,  while  she  would  be  a  woman 
"  without  pity  or  compassion  "  ! 

Of  course  that  would  be  it,  because  if  she — the  wife 
of  Stanford  Golt — bore  a  child  to  Bernard  Benstead, 
that  child  would  be  illegitimate ! 

But  it  was  all  Katherine's  doing — yes,  it  was  all 
Katherine's  doing — because  she  had  reasoned  and  ar- 
gued, and  wrung  from  Honora  a  vow  that  she  had 
never  wanted  to  give — at  least  she  had  wanted  to  give 
it — yes,  she  had,  she  had — and  even  now  perhaps  she 
did  not  regret,  for  it  is  better  to  live  before  you  die 
than  to  die  without  ever  having  lived. 

And  Honora  had  lived  for  six  perfect  weeks  in  Ber- 


298  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

nard's  arms ;  for  the  future  she  would  always  be  able  to 
look  back  and  know  what  life  meant — and  as  thickening, 
wrinkling,  stiffening  middle-age  creeps  on,  there  is  al- 
ways consolation  in  being  able  to  look  back. 

Regret  gradually  lessens,  and  the  perfect  past  be- 
comes like  a  rare  and  cherished  picture  hidden  behind 
thick  velvet  curtains  and  protected  by  a  locked  door. 

The  daylight  world  knows  nothing  of  that  picture, 
but  when  all  is  silent  and  lonely,  and  the  good  husband 
has  gone  to  his  bridge-club,  and  the  cackling  women 
friends  have  driven  off  to  parties,  an  eager  hand  un- 
locks that  door,  pulls  back  the  velvet  curtains,  and  the 
cherished  picture  is  gazed  upon  with  brightening  eyes. 

Once  upon  a  time  that  picture  used  to  be  seen  through 
a  mist  of  scalding  tears,  but  as  days  pass,  bringing  the 
eternal  future  near  and  nearer,  tears  are  dried  and  the 
cherished  picture  becomes  a  beacon  of  hope — for  who 
shall  say  that  the  eternal  future  and  the  eternal  past 
may  not  become  one  endless  epoch? 

Yes,  Honora  had  lived,  loved,  and  been  loved — she 
must  be  content — she  had  "  Vecu  son  etermte." 


CHAPTER   XXXH 

ON  the  second  morning  after  her  second  wedding 
Mrs.  Smith-Orlitson  sat  alone  in  the  dining-room  of  an 
exclusive  Folkestone  hotel. 

She  was  eating  an  omelet,  and  the  hour  was  10.40 
A.  M. 

Some  papers,  magazines,  and  opened  letters  were  by 
her  side,  and  after  a  hovering  waiter  had  whisked  away 
the  empty  omelet  plate,  Katherine  re-read  one  of  the 
letters,  laughed,  and  left  the  dining-room. 

The  elevator  was  in  readiness,  so  she  stepped  into  it, 
alighted  at  the  first  floor,  and  entered  bedroom  No.  16. 

This  was  her  bedroom,  and  on  the  other  side  of  a 
closed  communicating  door  was  the  sleeping  apartment 
of  her  most  recent  spouse. 

Katherine  looked  at  a  silver  travelling  clock  on  the 
mantelpiece,  jerked  one  thin  shoulder  with  a  gesture  of 
contemptuous  impatience,  and  opened  the  communicat- 
ing door. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  get  up?  " 

Undisturbed  silence. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  get  up?  " 

More  silence. 

Katherine  stamped  her  American  shoe,  crossed  to  the 
bed,  and  ungently  pummelled  a  large  mound  which  rose 
beneath  the  centre  of  the  quilt. 

The  mound  stirred,  the  mound  moaned,  then  gradu- 

299 


300  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

ally  a  sheet — which  had  been  pulled  up  over  the  pillow 
to  keep  out  the  light — was  lowered  to  reveal  the 
towzeled  head  and  unshaved  face  of  Mrs.  Smith-Orlit- 
son's  second  husband. 

"  Wajjer  time?  "  he  mumbled  sleepily. 

Katherine's  reply  was  to  manipulate  a  fully-charged 
bay-rum  spray. 

Tim  woke  up  and  cursed  amiably — he  always  man- 
aged to  do  everything  amiably. 

"  Don't  play  the  fool,  Kits — I  feel  so  sla-a-a-a-a-a- 
ack  " — here  ended  the  first  yawn — "  this  mor-or-or-or- 
or-or-or — " — here  ended  the  second  yawn — "  ning." 

Mrs.  Smith-Orlitson  sat  on  the  end  of  the  bed. 

"  Is  there  ever  an  occasion  when  you  don't  feel 
slack?  "  she  enquired  acidly. 

"Lots  of  'em — I  never  feel  slack  at  meal  times,  or 
when  there's  a  good-looking  girl  to  be  chased." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool !    Are  you  going  to  get  up  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  s'pose  so — but  this  early  rising  craze  is  a 
confounded  nuisance.  What's  the  time?  " 

"  Nearly  eleven." 

"  Well,  it's  perfectly  absurd — if  no  one  calls  me  how 
can  I  be  expected  to  get  up  ?  " 

"You  were  called  at  8,  at  8.30,  at  9,  at  9.30,  at 
t " 

"  Don't  argue,  my  dear — nothing  like  argument  for 
taking  the  youth  out  of  a  woman's  face.  Any  belles- 
lettres?  " 

"  Yes,  some  lettres,  but  I  don't  think  they  are  spe- 
cially belles.  One  from  Evelyn  Chesham." 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  301 

"Old  cat!" 

"Why?" 

Tim  punched  the  pillow  to  make  a  more  convenient 
indentation  for  his  head,  then  answered : 

"  Because  she  said  she  hoped  I'd  do  my  best  to  make 
you  happy,  as  a  compensation  for  your  first  unsuccess- 
ful marriage.  She  informed  me  that  Mr.  Roger  Orlit- 
son  was  a  sort  of  frightful  example  to  husbands,  that 
your  life  had  been  a  kind  of  domestic  hell,  that  his 
death — so  far  as  she  could  learn — was  his  only  con- 
siderate action,  and  that  you  had  been  a  brave  and 
gentle  wife  to  one  of  the  world's  most  complete  scamps ! 
That's  what  your  corpulent  friend  said  to  me,  dear ! " 

"  How  lovely !  How  lovely!  "  Mrs.  Orlitson  was 
simply  choking  and  squirming  with  laughter.  "  Oh, 
Tim,  that's  choice — choicer  than  anything  I've  heard 
for  a  long  time ! "  she  gasped,  while  a  little  ripple  of 
broken  laughs  still  continued. 

"  It  may  be  very  choice,  but  I  think  you'd  show  better 
taste  not  to  slang  your  first  and  most  accommodating 
spouse ! " 

"  I  never  did  slang  him — I  only  hinted,  sighed,  and 
looked  patient  at  him !  " 

"  You  red-haired  devil !  " 

"  You  unshaven  loafer !  " — after  which  exchange  of 
compliments  Mrs.  Smith-Orlitson  threw  a  rolled-up 
magazine  at  Mr.  Smith-Orlitson's  head,  who  returned 
the  assault  by  means  of  a  languidly  hurled  pillow. 

Katherine  stood  up. 

"  You  aren't  coming  out,  then?  " 


302  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  I  told  you  I  was " 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  did,  but  it's  past  eleven,  and  I 
want  to  get  a  few  fragments  of  oxygen  before  every- 
body else's  beastly  lungs  have  consumed  it  all,  so  I  shall 
go  without  you,  mon  brave.  Ring  the  bell  for  lunch 
when  you  want  it,  won't  you? — and  tea — and  dinner! 
Au  revoir,  as  they  say  in  the  Clapham  areas — au  revoir 
— and  dormez  bien!  " 

Tim  made  some  remark  to  the  effect  that  Katherine's 
German  accent  was  remarkable  for  its  purity,  but  as 
Mrs.  Orlitson  had  banged  the  communicating  door  these 
pleasantries  missed  their  mark. 

Katherine  looked  at  herself  in  a  long  glass. 

Yes,  the  pale  mauve  linen  frock  was  unique  and  effec- 
tive, but  the  waist  could  be  pinned  down  still  farther  in 
the  front. 

She  pinned  it.  The  perfect  waist  was  more  perfect 
than  ever,  and  beneath  the  short,  impudently-cut  skirt 
a  very  exclusively  shod  pair  of  feet  might  be  seen — in 
fact,  they  couldn't  help  being  seen,  and  no  one  would 
want  to  help  seeing  them. 

A  hat? — yes,  a  down-bending  burnt  straw  hat  with  a 
daring  pair  of  black  and  white  Mercury  wings  planted 
just  in  the  centre  and  bending  backwards. 

A  veil? — of  course,  a  very  ample  veil,  with  a  strip  of 
black  satin  ribbon  round  the  edge. 

Gloves  ? — white.     Parasol  ? — mauve. 

A  flip  of  powder  under  the  veil — and  the  re-wedded 
widow  was  ready  for  her  walk. 

She  passed  out  of  the  decorous  coolness  of  the  hotel 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  303 

into  the  flamboyant  seaside  sunshine,  and  strolled  slowly 
along  the  Lees. 

A  great  many  people  looked  at  her — several  women, 
and  most  men — but  Katherine  treated  all  glances  with 
unheeding  hauteur,  and  concentrated  her  attention  on 
the  fresh  air. 

It  was  immensely  good  to  be  out  here,  and  Katherine 
Smith-Orlitson  was  immensely  content. 

The  recently  acquired  bridegroom  now  lying  in  bed — 
probably  by  this  time  he  had  dropped  off  into  another 
beautifully  refreshing  doze — suited  her  better  than  any 
other ;  "  Grey  Rubbers  "  were  still  increasing  in  value, 
"  dear  big  Berr  and  Ora "  were  safely  married  and 
happy,  so  her  conscience  needn't  prick  on  their  ac- 
count; next  season  she  would  be  presented  on  her 
marriage — Katherine  repeated  the  words  "  on  her  mar- 
riage," and  giggled  till  a  passing  blood  in  grey  flan- 
nels wondered  if  he  was  being  tempted — Dr.  Sphait 
was  safe;  Mrs.  Burham  was  safe;  and  The  Secret 
was  safe. 

There  was  no  doubt  Katherine  had  been  through 
squally  times,  but  now  it  would  be  all  plain  sailing  in  a 
liner  de  luxe. 

Katherine  passed  through  a  gap  in  the  wire  rails, 
and  sat  down  on  a  seat  fixed  stimulatingly  near  the 
edge  of  the  cliff. 

The  sea  was  very  joyous,  even  though  cheap-trip 
steamers  did  mar  its  white-waved  prettiness.  Katherine 
felt  momentarily  sentimental  about  the  sea  till  an  ad- 
jacent band  broke  into  a  waltz. 


THE     WILD     WIDOW 

Katherine  listened.  It  was  the  "  Merry  Widow  " 
waltz — and  she  giggled  again. 

She  wished  Tim — and  someone — were  with  her,  be- 
cause a  contented  frame  of  mind  demands  companion- 
ship, just  as  a  discontented  one  requires  solitude. 

"  Katherine !  Oh,  it  is  you — here  you  are !  " 

Mrs.  Orlitson  turned  her  red  head  in  astonishment 
as  these  words  reached  her  ear  and  a  hand  was  laid  upon 
her  shoulder. 

"  Honora!  *'  she  exclaimed  with  staccato  breathless- 
ness.  "  Honora,  why  are  you  here  yet,  and,  my  dearest 
girl,  why — why  are  you  looking  nearly  ugly  ?  " 

Honora,  whose  beautifying  flush  was  absent,  and 
whose  bewildering  eyes  seemed  unbecomingly  out  of 
proportion,  bent  over  the  back  of  the  seat. 

"  I  must  see  you.  I  want  to  tell  you  things — but  I 
can't  talk  here.  Let's  go  down  among  those  trees,"  she 
answered,  indicating  one  of  the  little  fir  coppices  which 
decorate  the  cliffs  and  prove  of  such  service  to  Folke- 
stone amorists. 

Katherine  rose  at  once,  and  refrained  from  asking 
any  questions  till  they  had  descended  an  uncomfortably 
large  quantity  of  steps  and  were  sheltered  among  the 
fir  trees. 

They  both  sat  down  on  a  wooden  bench,  on  which 
was  carved  a  romantic  diversity  of  linked  initials,  and 
then  Honora  doggedly  fixed  her  eyes  on  a  white  peep 
of  the  lower  Sandgate  Road,  which  was  visible  through 
the  trees. 

It  was  evident  that  she  did  not  mean  to  look  at  Kath- 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  305 

erine — did  not  mean  to  meet  those  light  grey  eyes  which 
were  so  full  of  magnetism  and  will-power. 

She  began  speaking  at  once,  and  in  the  definite  tones 
of  a  woman  whose  mind  is  absolutely  made  up  and  proof 
against  all  argument. 

"  I  have  left  Bernard." 

"Ah!    Does  he  like  it?" 

"  He  doesn't  know  yet.  I  started  before  he  was  up, 
and  left  a  little  note  saying  I  had  gone  up  to  town  on 
business.  You  will  explain  everything  when  I'm — I'm 
quite  out  of  the  way." 

"Oh,  shall  I?     And  what  is  the  everything?" 

"  The  everything  is  my  story.  When  I  have  gone 
you  must  tell  Bernard  that  I  am  not  his  wife,  but  you 
must  tell  him,  too,  how  most  of  it  is  your  fault — how 
I  wanted  to  be  straight,  but  that  you  talked,  and  talked, 
and  talked  down  my  conscience  and  made  me  take  a 
vow  which  I  knew  was  criminal  to  take." 

"  Oh,  yes.  I'll  tell  him  all  that.  I'll  be  most  self- 
abasing.  But  what  I  should  like  to  know  is,  why  you 
have  suddenly  come  to  this  hysterical  decision.  It's  no 
more  criminal  to  make  Berr  happy  to-day  than  it  was 
six  months  ago,  is  it?" 

"Yes,  it  would  be  much  more  criminal  now  that  I 
know  his  views  on — on  " — the  flush  came  back,  but  it 
was  too  vivid  for  beauty — "  on  illegitimate  children." 
And  then  briefly  Honora  repeated  the  incidents  and 
conversations  which  had  taken  place  the  night  before, 
while  every  second  Mrs.  Smith-Orlitson's  face  grew 
whiter,  less  young,  and  less  attractive. 


306  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"And  because  of  this,  you — go?"  she  said  after  ,\ 
pause. 

"  Yes,  I  go.  If  we  had  children,  they  would  be  ille- 
gitimate and  Bernard  would ' 

"  Honora,  don't  be  such  a  fool,  such  a  damned  fool. 
What's  the  good  of  making  a  scandal  just  because " 

"  Katherine — that  is  absolutely  enough !  "  Honora 
had  risen  suddenly,  and  was  standing  now  in  an  attitude 
which  was  too  sincerely  impressive  to  be  modern.  She 
might  easily  have  been  some  avenging  dryad — except 
for  the  strappings  on  her  white  serge  skirt  and  the  pink 
Paris  roses  in  her  hat.  "  Nothing,  nothing  you  say  will 
alter  me  now.  You  may  taunt  me  about  being  a  coward, 
but  this  time  my  cowardice  is  bravery — for  I  am  braver 
in  leaving  my  beloved  than  I  should  be  in  risking  all 
which  the  future  might  bring  forth !  I  will  be  brave  this 
once,  Katherine.  I  will  not  continue  this  game  of  mock 
wifehood — of  real  bigamy!  Bernard  shall  not  suffer 
the  remorse  of  a  nameless  child  through  me!  God  is 
going  to  help  me  this  time,  so  this  time  I  shan't  fail! 
But  you  must  tell  Bernard — and  tell  him  as  well  as 
you  can " 

Honora  had  been  speaking  loudly — in  tones  that 
were  noisy  and  emphatic  enough  to  be  vulgar,  and  she 
paused  as  an  entourage,  consisting  of  a  well-frocked 
mother,  a  well-cloaked  nurse,  and  various  well-starched 
infants  trailed  through  the  coppice. 

Katherine  waited  till  the  last  starched  child  had 
passed  out  into  the  hot  sunshine,  then  she,  too,  rose 
from  the  bench;  but  for  once  spontaneity  and  agility 


THE     WILD    WIDOW  307 

were  absent  from  her  movements,  and  the  white-pow- 
dered face  looked  grey. 

"  You  so  determinedly  mean  this,  and  nothing  will 
alter  you  ?  "  she  asked,  speaking  quite  slowly  and  with- 
out any  characteristic  indistinctness. 

"  Nothing !    Nothing — nothing ! " 

"  Then  come  back  to  the  hotel  with  me,  but  don't 
speak  one  word  on  the  way — and  remember  that  if  I 
did  evil  it  was  that  good  might  come  of  it !  Come !  " 

And  through  the  fir  trees  Roger  Orlitson's  widow  led 
the  way. 


CHAPTER    XXXIH 

WHEN  they  reached  the  hotel  Katherine,  followed  by 
Honora,  immediately  entered  the  lift,  and  was  taken 
to  bedroom  No.  16,  on  the  first  floor. 

Katherine  looked  through  the  communicating  door 
to  find  that  her  husband  had  actually  gone  downstairs, 
after  which  she  turned  both  keys  in  both  locks,  and 
dragged  a  flat  cabin  trunk  from  under  the  bed. 

Honora  watched  her  in  bewilderment. 

Why  was  she  getting  out  the  trunk? — why  was  she 
producing  a  bunch  of  keys? — why  was  she  fitting  ont 
into  the  small  patent  lock? — what  was  she  searching 
for  inside  the  trunk,  and  what  connection  could  any- 
thing which  might  be  inside  have  with  this  momentous 
crisis  in  her  own  affairs? 

"  Ah!  " 

This  ejaculation,  which  was  half  a  cry,  left  Kather- 
ine's  set  teeth  and  mouth  as  she  produced  a  small, 
shabby,  mock-leather  writing-case. 

She  rose  from  her  knees  and  stood  facing  Honora 
with  the  case  tightly  clasped  in  her  thin  ringed  fingers. 

"  It  has  always  been  my  motto  to  do  evil — certain 
kinds  of  evil — that  good  may  come  of  it,"  she  said, 
speaking  rapidly  and  indistinctly  once  more !  "  Now, 
for  the  first  time,  I  am  going  to  do  good  that  good  may 
come  of  it.  I  am  going  to  confess — to  confess  my  life's 

308 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  309 

dangerous  criminal  secret  for  the  sake  of  my  brother 
and  for  the  sake  of  my  friend — for  you  are  my  friend. 
Oh,  Honora,  for  God's  sake  say  you  are  my  friend!  " 

It  was  almost  piteous  to  hear  self-reliant,  audacious, 
arrogant  Katherine  Orlitson  begging  for  a  woman's 
friendship. 

"  You  know  I  am,  my  dear — my  dear  Katherine." 
And  as  Honora  answered  she  bent  forward  and  kissed 
a  white,  cold,  powdered  cheek. 

The  kiss  was  for  Bernard's  sister,  but  it  was  also  for 
a  woman  chum  and  companion  who  had  filled  so  many 
needs  in  her  empty  life. 

Katherine  clung  to  her,  almost  weakly  for  a  moment 
— then  the  indomitable  pluck  of  her  character  reas- 
serted itself,  and  she  was  ready  for  her  ordeal — ready 
to  do  the  best  thing  she  had  ever  done  in  all  her  life. 

She  opened  the  little  shabby  writing-case,  took  from 
it  si  man's  handkerchief,  a  man's  visiting  card,  and  an 
envelope  addressed  to  a  man.  These  she  laid  in  Honora's 
hand. 

"  But  what  are  these "  began  Honora.  Then 

suddenly  she  paused,  and  a  vast  terror  came  into  her 
eyes. 

The  man's  handkerchief  was  marked  "  Stanford 
Golt,"  the  visiting  card  bore  the  name  of  "  Stanford 
Golt,"  the  envelope  was  addressed  to  '*  Stanford  Golt  " 
— the  beast  whom  Honora  had  married  over  two  years 
ago! 

"  What  does  it  mean?  How  did  these  come  into  your 
possession  ?  "  she  cried  at  last. 


310  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  They  came  into  my  possession  because  I  found 
them  in  Stanford  Golfs  pocket ! "  replied  Katherine 
with  a  return  of  her  usual  half-insolent  matter-of- 
courseness. 

"  Katherine,  I  don't  understand — do — tell  me  as 
quickly  and  clearly  as  you  can — you — you  can't  think 
how — how  I  want  to  know ! " 

Honora's  hands  were  very  tightly  clenched  together, 
and  she  was  making  an  agonising  effort  not  to  betray 
the  maddening  keenness  of  her  anxiety — because,  re- 
gretful as  the  fact  may  be,  human  beings  are  contrary 
creatures,  and  almost  unconsciously  one  person  will  hold 
news  in  abeyance  if  another  person  shows  too  ardent  a 
desire  for  details.  Honora  knew  this,  and  she  knew 
Katherine. 

The  restraint  worked,  and  the  dramatic  situation  fell 
slightly  flat. 

Katherine  Smith-Orlitson  began  her  story. 

"  Less  than  eighteen  months  ago  I  was  suffering 
acutely  from  want  of  funds,"  she  said,  setting  her  voice 
into  an  easy,  monotonous  key.  "  Roger  and  I  had  en- 
joyed a  splendid  time — we  had  gone  on  spending  capital 
with  the  sublime  carelessness  of  complete  fools,  and 
while  travelling  abroad  we  had  made  well-off  acquaint- 
ances, who  were  going  to  keep  us  when  we  returned  to 
town,  we  did  everything  we  wanted,  saw  everything  we 
wanted,  until  quite  suddenly  the  fact  faced  us  that  we 
were  beautifully  and  artistically  poor.  I  couldn't  get 
back  on  the  stage  right  away,  and  Roger  was  afflicted 
with  a  constitutional  dislike  to  working  in  order  to 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  311 

earn  money — so  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  re- 
trench violently  till  something  turned  up.  Oh,  Honora, 
I  can't  conceive  anything  more  awful,  more  deadening, 
more  soul-murdering,  more  dulling,  than  retrenchment. 
Good  heavens !  A  fortnight's  retrenchment  will  kill 
more  of  a  woman's  youth  than  five  years  going  the 
pace ! " 

Katherine  paused  a  second,  as  though  fighting  with 
hideous  spectres  of  recollection — then  she  continued: 

"  We  took  a  furnished  cottage  at  Seedlingditch,  a 
desolate,  gasless,  waterless  hovel — ugh !  even  now  I  can 
remember  fetching  dripping  cans  of  water  from  an  out- 
side tank — a  sort  of  catacomb  for  women's  souls — you 
know!  Roger's  clothes  were  shiny  and  seamy,  my 
frocks  were  shabby  and  bygone;  rich  acquaintances, 
made  abroad,  wrote  and  invited  us  for  week-ends,  obvi- 
ously expecting  return  hospitality — and  all  this  while 
I  was  washing  up  greasy  dishes  and  wishing  myself 
dead!  Yes,  I'd  rather  have  been  a  red-haired  corpse 
any  moment  than  have  gone  on  retrenching!  I  would, 
Honora,  I  would — I  would!  " 

"  Yes — perhaps  I  can  understand — go  on,  dear !  " 
Heavens !  why  could  not  she  get  to  the  point  without  all 
this  emotional  preamble! 

"  Then  one  afternoon  I  found  my  way  out.  Roger 
had  gone  for  a  walk,  and  after  finishing  such  congenial 
tasks  a*  filling  scuttles  and  scouring  sinks,  I  left  the 
cottage  and  crossed  the  fields.  The  weather  was  breezy 
and  beautiful,  and  I  was  thinking  of  London,  London 
frocks,  London  life,  when  I  suddenly  saw  the  brown- 


312  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

bearded  cheek,  the  blue  serge  trouser  leg,  and  the  tan 
boot  of  a  man  who  was  lying  on  the  grass.  Of  course 
it  must  be  Roger — laziness  had  caused  him  to  grow  a 
beard,  he  wore  serge  trousers  and  tan  boots,  and  he  was 
always  prepared  to  undergo  the  rest  cure  without  any 
special  provocation.  I  bent  over  to  wake  him  up,  and 

found "  Katherine  couldn't  help  just  one  dramatic 

pause.  She  could  never  entirely  leave  off  playing  to  the 
gallery. 

"Yes— yes " 

'*  And  found  that  neither  was  the  man  asleep  nor  was 
he  my  husband.  He  was  a  stranger  who  bore  a 
somewhat  general  likeness  to  Roger,  and  he  was — 
dead!  " 

"  Go  on — go  on — go  on,  Katherine !  "  Mad,  wild 
eagerness  could  no  longer  be  controlled. 

"  I'm  not  a  nervy  woman,  so  instead  of  fainting  or 
screaming  I  turned  out  the  poor  creature's  pockets  in 
order  to  find  out  where  he  lived  and  with  whom  to  com- 
municate. But  there  was  nothing  much  to  find — a  little 
money,  a  watch,  a  knife,  some  stamps,  and  a  handker- 
chief, a  visiting  card,  and  an  addressed  envelope — the 
one  you  are  now  holding  in  your  hand!  " 

There  was  nothing  Honora  could  say!  God,  there 
was  nothing,  for  no  human  words  could  frame  such  a 
thanksgiving  as  was  in  her  heart ! 

She  was  Bernard's  -wife! — Bernard's  wife! — Ber- 
nard's wife!  She  was  free  to  lie  in  his  arms — to  bring 
forth  beautiful  sons  and  daughters  with  a  right  to 
their  father's  name ! 


313 

God — the  angels — the  saints — the  heavens — all,  all 
be  thanked ! 

"  Honora,  listen,  dearie — you'll  hear  the  rest  of  my 
story?  Don't  forget  me," 

Honora  held  out  both  hands  to  Katherine,  and  with 
warm,  quivering,  interlinked  fingers  the  rest  of  the 
story  was  told  and  heard. 

"  When  I  found  these  three  things,  Ora,  a  devil 
whispered  suggestions  to  me.  We  had  only  been  a  week 
at  Seedlingditch — as  he  spent  most  of  his  time  in  bed, 
not  even  the  postman  or  the  idiot  pedlar  had  seen  Roger 
— no  one  knew  us — Roger's  life  had  been  insured  for 
£2,000 — £2,000  would  save  the  present  situation,  and 
there  was  Grandfather  Laurence's  roulette  scheme — this 
dead  man  was  sufficiently  like  Roger  to  satisfy  an  insur- 
ance company.  Honora,  I  put  those  sole  proofs  of 
identification  in  my  pocket,  and  I  decided  to  run  a 
gigantic  risk.  If  it  were  possible,  I  would  pretend  that 
this  dead  man  was  my  own  husband!  Of  course  the 
risk  was  gigantic  because  it  was  more  than  probable 
that  Stanford  Golfs  relatives  would  offer  rewards  and 
employ  detectives  to  find  their  missing  kinsman.  But 
running  risks  is  a  better  game  than  retrenching,  so  1 
decided  to  play  it !  " 

Honora  drew  a  deep  breath — one  of  quite  immoral 
admiration.  This  red-haired  woman  was  wonderful — 
wonderful ! 

"  I  rushed  to  the  nearest  doctor — Dr.  Morgan  B. 
Sphait,  my  dear — and  told  him  my  husband  was  lying 
dead  in  a  field !  Oh,  Honora,  I  acted  gorgeously — my 


314  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

dazed  grief  was  a  dramatic  triumph !  It  was  the  first 
time  I  had  ever  played  lead!  But,  by  Jove,  I  did  it 
well!  He  came  with  me  and  endorsed  the  sad  truth! 
My  emotions  were  so  upheaved — I  must  go  home  to  give 
instructions  about  the  body — I  went — I  found  Roger 
had  returned  from  his  walk — and  without  a  word  of  ex- 
planation I  bundled  him  into  a  wood  shed  and  kept  him 
out  of  the  way  till  Stanford  Golt  was  laid  upon  the 
bed  in  a  little  back  room,  and  until  Dr.  Sphait  had  gone 
back  to  fetch  some  soothing  medicine  for  my  nerves ! 
Then  I  hoofed  Roger  out  of  the  shed,  gave  him  some 
food  in  the  dining-room,  and  told  him  the  game  that 
was  to  be  played — how  he  must  go  abroad  at  once  and 
remain  away  some  months,  while  I  permitted  him  a 
percentage  of  the  insurance  money  and  profits.  But 
while  we  were  talking  it  appears  the  enterprising  Mor- 
gan returned  and  looked  through  the  blind — to  see  me 
leaning  my  head  against  the  shoulder  of  a  presumably 
strange  man  when  my  own  husband  was  presumably 
lying  dead  upstairs." 

"  Katherine !  Surely  that  made  you  afraid  to  go  on 
with  the  risk  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Kid,  I  didn't  know  it  at  the  time.  It  was 
only  afterwards,  when  Morgan  Sphait  discovered  the 
widow  had  become  a  rich  woman,  that  he  troubled  to 
turn  his  knowledge  into  a  marketable  asset.  He  did 
know,  later,  though — and  that's  why  I've  been  paying 
for  his  Harley  Street  suite  and  booming  him  like  mad. 
But  I've  got  him  safe  now,  and  I've  got  Mrs.  Burham 
safe  too." 


THE     WILD     WIDOW  315 

"  Mrs.  Burham !  What  has  she  to  do  with  the  mat- 
ter?" interposed  Honora,  whose  personal  exhilaration 
was  almost  forgotten  in  wonder  at  this  red-haired  wom- 
an's marvellous  revelations.  She  was  experiencing  the 
fevered  eagerness  of  a  person  hurried  by  skimming  the 
pages  of  an  exciting  book,  so  that  the  astonishing  end 
may  be  more  quickly  reached. 

"  Mrs.  Burham  saw  me  at  Langley  Cross  when  Roger 
came  back,  and  he  and  I  were  legally  and  morally  week- 
ending under  the  name  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dylke !  It  was 
necessary  for  us  to  meet  so  that  future  plans  could  be 
arranged,  and  I  did  think  the  Langley  Cross  Inn  would 
have  been  safe.  But  it  wasn't,  because  fate  sent  Mrs. 
Burham  there  on  that  very  identical  day,  so  naturally 
she  thought  that  the  red-haired  member  of  the  Serpen- 
tine Club  was  a  widow  up  to  larks — whereas  she  was  in 
reality  a  decorous  wife  spending  a  decorous  day  to  ar- 
range business  with  her  decorous  husband!  However, 
Mrs.  B.  is  silent  now — the  Worldly  Woman  has  shut 
her  box-like  mouth — though  if  either  she  or  Sphait  did 
split  about  my  presumed  lover  I  don't  think  anyone 
would  believe  them,  so  it  wouldn't  matter.  It  isn't  as 
if  they  had  any  inkling  of  the  truth,  Oro — the  truth 
which  could  send  your  red-haired  pal  to  gaol  for 
fraud " 

"  Don't  Katherine — don't,  dear ! "  And  Honora 
winced  because — because  this  was  Bernard's  sister! 

Ah,  yes — Bernard!  An  idea — an  ugly  unpalatable 
idea  suggested  itself. 

"Katherine!" 


316  THE     WILD     WIDOW 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Big-eyes  ? "  Mrs.  Smith-Orlitson's 
aplomb  was  now  full}7  restored,  and  a  keen  sense  of 
self-appreciation  had  returned  during  the  recital  of  her 
story. 

"  Does — does — Bernard  know  ?  " 

"  My  God,  no,  of  course  he  doesn't !  I'd  put  myself 
in  the  Lethal  Chamber  if  Berr  knew — the  shame  would 
kill  me — if  he  didn't !  Berr  hasn't  always  made  a  hobby 
of  being  what  one  might  call  a  good  man,  but  any  steal- 
ing, any  thieving !  Good  heavens,  the  very  idea  of 

Berr  knowing  makes  iced  water  run  up  and  down  my 
spine ! " 

Honora  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  that  was  almost  a 
hurricane. 

Nothing  mattered  so  long  as  her  big  husband — yes, 
husband — husband — didn't  know  and  approve  of  this 
ingenious  fraud. 

"Well,  now  you  know,  my  dear,  what  do  you  think 
of  your  red-haired  sister-in-law?  What  do  you  think 
of  her,  Mrs.  Benstead?  " 

Honora  smiled  affectionately  and  looked  her  full  in 
the  eyes. 

"  I  shall  think  nothing  but  nice  things  of  her  directly 

the  insurance  company — er For  how  much  was 

your  husband  insured?  " 

"  £2,000." 

"Well,  directly  the  insurance  company  receive  an 
anonymous  sum  of  £3,000  conscience  money ! — two 
thousand  to  pay  the  debt,  and  one  thousand  interest  and 
compensation !  " 


DTHE     WILD     WIDOW  317 

> 

Katherine's  light  grey  eyes  grew  dark  with  conster- 
nation. 

"  Honora,  I  can't— I  can't— 

"Yes,  Katherine,  dearest,  you  can  and  you  wiU.  I 
have  no  doubt  about  it,  I  know  you  will.  The  money 
will  be  sent  within  a  week !  "  And  Honora's  air  of  calm 
assurance  was  very  clever. 

"  We  won't  discuss  that  just  now,"  gasped  Katherine 
at  last. 

"  No,  there's  no  need  to  discuss  it,  I  know,  dear — and 
— oh,  Katherine!  " 

Honora  sank  down  on  a  low  chair. 

She  looked  suddenly  scared. 

"What  is  thq  matter?"  asked  Mrs.  Smith-Orlitson 
not  quite  amiably.  That  three  thousand  notion  was 
absurd — absurd ! 

"  Why,  of  course — your  husband — he  is  still  alive ! 
What  about  Tim?  " 

"Looks  like  bigamy,  doesn't  it,  Mrs.  Berr?" 

"  Of  course,  if— if " 

"  But  it  isn't,  because,  as  I  happen  to  have  married 
my  first  husband  over  again — well,  it's  only  extra  legal 
and  moral,  isn't  it?  *  Tim '  is  just  Roger  without  the 
beard !  Good  idea,  wasn't  it  ?  No  one  ever  saw  Roger, 
so  no  one  can  know,  and  being  clean  shaven  makes  such 
a  lot  of  dif !  We  shall  soon  let  the  Smith  slide  alto- 
gether, so,  though  he  can't  be  *  Roger '  except  in  hours 
of  deadly  privacy,  he'll  be  *  Orlitson  '  till  the  end.  Now 
you  know  all  about  me.  I  always  told  you  that  I  was 
candid,  didn't  I?  Ha!  ha!  ha!  And  if  ever  you  split 


318  THE    WILD    WIDOW 

to  get  me  sent  to  gaol,  your  husband's  family  reputation 
will  suffer !  So  I've  got  you  there,  Mrs.  Long  Lashes ! 
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha !  Come  along  to  lunch,  then  get  back 
to  Berr  just  as  slippy  as  an  express  will  puff  you  to 
Sussex!  Rog — er — Tim's  making  breakfast  do  for  his 
lunch — so  come  along — come  along  to  food !  " 

Before  the  violet  summer  dusk  closed  in  Honora 
reached  her  chicken  farm,  and  half  an  hour  later  Ber- 
nard had  heard  the  full  and  complete  story  of  her  first 
verbal  marriage — without  any  details  glossed  over,  ex- 
cept those  which  merged  into  the  by-ways  of  Katherine's 
ingenious  past. 

"  But  you  don't  mind,  do  you — do  you  ?  "  cried  Ho- 
nora, slipping  into  his  arms. 

Bernard  was  silent  a  moment,  then  he  answered. 

"  Certainly,  I  don't  mind  in  the  least — that  is,  as 
matters  "were  and  as  matters  are!  Mr.  Golt  was  quite 
welcome  to  your  scurried  legal  vows.  But  if  he  or  any 
other  man  had  ever  held  you  as  I'm  holding  you  now — 
like  this — like  this — I — I  think  I  must  have  killed 
him!" 

"  Of  course  you  must  dear.  But  as  no  man  ever  has, 
it's  all  right,  isn't  it?  " 

"Yes,  it's  all  right,  Honora — it's  all  right,  my  love 
— my  wife — my  girl !  " 

Copy  of  advertisement  appearing  a  week  later  in  the 
Agony  Column  of  the  Daily  Wire: 


THE     WILD    WIDOW  319 

"  The  Excelsior  Insurance  Company  begs  to  acknowl- 
edge anonymous  '  conscience  money  '  value  £3,000." 

A  copy  of  "  par  "  in  the  Worldly  Woman  printed  ten 
months  later : 

"  Mrs.  Smith-Orlitson,  who  was  presented  on  her  mar- 
riage by  Lady  Hespeth,  wore  *  violette  de  parme  '  satin 
duchesse  embroidered  in  silver  with  train  of  mirror  vel- 
vet lined  with  silver  tissue^  etc." 

Copy  of  announcement  in  the  Times  one  year  later: 
"  To  Honora  and  Bernard  Benstead — a  son." 


THE  END 


A     000133604     9 


